“The servers are being preserved.”
Lillian began searching through her handbag.
Adrian rounded on her.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting my phone.”
“You are not giving them anything.”
Her eyes filled with panic.
“You told me those invoices were legal.”
“They were.”
“Then why are you afraid of my phone?”
He lunged for the handbag.
One security officer stepped forward.
Adrian stopped.
Lillian pulled out her phone and placed it on the table beside Dana.
“I have messages,” she said.
“Emails too.
He told me what descriptions to put on the invoices.
I kept copies because he started threatening me after Samuel asked questions.”
Adrian stared at her with pure hatred.
“You lived in my home.”
“You were still married when you brought me into it,” she replied.
No one defended either of them.
Leonard finished reading the remaining provisions.
Adrian would receive no direct control of Samuel’s estate.
A smaller trust had been created for him, but distributions were suspended until the audit concluded and any money owed to the company or to me had been repaid.
Eleanor’s annuity would cover her needs, but not the lifestyle she had assumed was permanent.
The Carmel residence was comfortable, private, and already staffed.
She had ninety days to leave the Monterey Hills mansion.
Samuel left personal keepsakes to relatives, charitable gifts to several organizations, and education funds for the children of longtime employees.
Then Leonard handed me a final letter.
“This is not part of the legal instrument,” he said.
“Samuel asked that you read it privately.”
I held the envelope but did not open it.
There was still one question I needed answered.
“Why did Samuel come to my studio?”
Ruth looked at me.
“Because he found the scanned assignment and believed your signature looked wrong.
He asked Adrian for the original.
Adrian said it had been destroyed.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.
Samuel found it in the archive.”
Ruth nodded toward my portfolio on the screen.
“He needed your original drawings to establish a timeline.
He also wanted to know whether you had willingly surrendered your rights.”
“I told him I hadn’t.”
“That confirmed it.”
I remembered Samuel standing beside my drafting table, turning each page carefully.
He had asked why I had never challenged Adrian publicly.
I told him I was tired of begging people to believe me.
Samuel had looked older in that moment than I had ever seen him.
“I should have believed you before you had to beg,” he said.
At the time, I did not understand that it was a confession.
The board met at noon.
I did not appoint myself chief executive.
