Chapter 10 - THE MAN WHO WANTED MY DAUGHTER'S TRUST
Scott Landry disappeared.
Not internationally.
Not dramatically.
He simply stopped answering calls and left his apartment.
His lawyer claimed not to know where he was.
Grant called him thirty-seven times.
No answer.
I almost appreciated the symmetry.
Then Claire discovered something inside Scott’s billing records.
He had scheduled a meeting for the following Monday with a trust attorney.
Subject:
LILY MERCER SUCCESSION - GUARDIANSHIP CONTINGENCIES.
My stomach tightened.
Grant was Lily’s father.
If I died or became incapacitated, he would naturally play a major role in her life.
But I had deliberately separated parental guardianship from financial control.
Lily’s money would be managed by an independent trustee.
Not Grant.
Not my mother.
Not anyone who could treat parenthood like an ATM card.
Scott apparently wanted to change that.
How?
My signature.
Again.
Then my lawyer found a draft amendment.
It purported to appoint Grant co-trustee.
Unsigned.
But beside it was a memo.
OBTAIN EVELYN AUTHORIZATION DURING CHICAGO TRIP.
My Chicago trip.
The one I had just returned from early.
My heartbeat changed.
“What was supposed to happen while I was away?”
Grant went pale.
“I don’t know.”
Jessica did.
We finally reached her through counsel.
She wanted immunity from civil claims in exchange for cooperation.
I refused blanket protection.
She agreed to talk anyway.
Jessica looked nothing like the woman in the yacht photograph.
Hair tied back.
No makeup.
Terrified.
Scott had instructed her to get access to my office while I was in Chicago.
She stole the board binder.
But there was another task.
“Grant was supposed to sign family documents Saturday.”
Grant stared.
“What documents?”
“You thought they were Miami refinancing papers.”
He closed his eyes.
Of course.
Scott planned to bury trust amendments inside another stack.
Same trick everyone uses when they expect trust to replace reading.
“Was my signature already there?”
Jessica nodded.
“Digitally.”
“Fake?”
“Yes.”
“Who created it?”
“Scott.”
Finally.
A direct answer.
Then I asked:
“What happened with Lily?”
Jessica looked ashamed.
“I didn’t know she would react.”
“That is not what I asked.”
She cried.
“I brought the food.”
“Yes.”
“I knew about her allergy.”
My body went cold.
“Then why bring cashew chicken into my home?”
“Grant ordered it for me. I should have said no.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think she would touch it.”
“Why did you make fun of her medical bag?”
Jessica covered her face.
“I was being horrible.”
At least she didn’t hide.
“Did anyone ask you to endanger Lily?”
“No.”
“Scott?”
“No.”
“Your father?”
“Absolutely not.”
No conspiracy against my daughter.
Just adults behaving monstrously.
For me, that was enough.
Then Jessica revealed Scott’s final plan.
He wanted the trust amendment executed before Mercer Capital’s annual investor meeting.
Once Grant appeared to hold co-trustee rights, Scott planned to threaten a public dispute over succession, ownership, and marital claims.
Northbridge would then renew its acquisition offer at a discount.
Arthur Vale did not know about that phase.
Scott intended to collect from Northbridge, Margaret, and eventually me.
“He was going to blackmail everyone.”
Jessica nodded.
Then she handed us access to a cloud folder.
Every forged document.
Every invoice.
Every message.
Scott had kept everything.
Insurance.
Against Northbridge.
Against Jessica.
Against Grant.
Against Margaret.
Then Grant saw a folder labeled G.M. EXIT.
Inside was a draft statement accusing Grant of masterminding the entire scheme.
Scott planned to sacrifice him if anything failed.
Grant stared at it.
“He was going to blame me.”
Jessica whispered:
“He already started.”
How?
Scott had sent documents anonymously to Mercer Capital’s board.
Documents showing Grant had used forged financial rights to obtain the Miami house.
True enough.
Then altered messages suggesting Grant ordered the forged option agreement.
False.
If released publicly, Grant would look like the architect.
My husband had made terrible choices.
But Scott had built the machinery.
Then Jessica said:
“There’s one place Scott might go.”
“Where?”
She looked toward Grant.
“Your father’s old cabin.”
Grant froze.
Thomas owned a cabin in the Keys.
He supposedly sold it before dying.
Apparently not.
And according to Jessica, that was where Scott stored the original documents.
Including one original letter Thomas wrote shortly before death.
May you like
A letter Grant had never seen.
A letter addressed to me.
