Chapter 4 - THE TRUST HE THOUGHT HE CONTROLLED
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We didn't sleep that night.
Marcus worked through stacks of records while I sat beside Mara and my mother.
At 4:20 a.m., he finally looked up.
“I found it.”
“What?”
“The trust.”
He projected the document onto the wall.
The Thorne Family Heritage Trust.
Established thirty-eight years ago.
Original settlor:
Richard Thorne.
Primary beneficiary:
Julian Thorne.
I frowned.
“Then how do I own it?”
Marcus scrolled.
A later amendment appeared.
Signed by Richard Thorne.
Then another name.
Serena Carter.
I stared.
“That can't be.”
“It was executed eight years ago.”
The month before my wedding.
My father had somehow acquired controlling authority over the trust.
Then transferred the beneficial interest to me.
But there was a catch.
The transfer would only activate if Julian committed financial misconduct against me.
My heart hammered.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
Marcus nodded.
“He anticipated exactly this.”
Mara smiled.
“Your father was very careful.”
I looked at my mother.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he asked me not to.”
“When?”
“Before the wedding.”
I closed my eyes.
Seven years.
Seven years of blaming myself for being too trusting.
But my father had believed in me.
He had simply waited for me to discover the truth myself.
Then Marcus said:
“There is one more clause.”
“What?”
“If Julian is found to have physically harmed a family member, the trust becomes irrevocable.”
I stared.
“He hit Mom.”
Marcus nodded.
“That's why this is bigger than the money.”
My mother's eyes filled.
“He protected me.”
“He protected us.”
I looked at the trust.
“What happens now?”
Marcus smiled slightly.
“We take everything back.”
I expected relief.
Instead, I felt something colder.
Because Julian had not known about the trust.
Which meant the money he stole had likely been moved somewhere else.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Where did the funds go?”
He pulled up the wire transfers.
Most went to Julian's family.
But one recipient stood out.
STERLING PRIVATE HOLDINGS.
My blood ran cold.
“That's not a Thorne company.”
“No.”
“Who owns it?”
Marcus zoomed in.
A corporation registered in Delaware.
Beneficial owner hidden.
Then one document revealed the name.
Cassandra Vale.
I knew the name.
Julian's former business partner.
A woman who had attended our wedding.
A woman who disappeared from Chicago five years ago.
Mara whispered:
“She's dangerous.”
“How do you know her?”
“She worked for Julian's father.”
“What did she do?”
Mara looked at me.
“She arranged the poisoning.”
My heart stopped.
“Of my father?”
“Yes.”
Marcus closed the laptop.
“We're not dealing with a family thief.”
“What are we dealing with?”
“A network.”
I stood.
“Then let's dismantle it.”
We returned to the city before dawn.
Julian called.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“You should come back.”
I laughed.
“To the penthouse?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“Serena.”
“Julian.”
“You're making a mistake.”
I stared at my mother's bruise.
“No.”
“You walked out.”
“Yes.”
“You don't understand what you're doing.”
“I understand exactly.”
Silence.
Then he whispered:
“Did Marcus tell you about the trust?”
My heart stopped.
He knew.
“How?”
“Because it was never your trust.”
“What?”
He laughed.
“You really think your father left you something?”
My blood ran cold.
“Julian…”
“The trust belongs to my family.”
“Not anymore.”
“Oh, Serena.”
His voice became almost gentle.
“Your father didn't create that trust.”
“I know.”
“He stole it.”
I froze.
“And now,” Julian said, “you are going to help me steal it back.”
The line went dead.
Marcus looked at me.
“What did he say?”
I stared at the phone.
“He wants me to believe Dad was the villain.”
Marcus frowned.
“He isn't entirely wrong.”
“What?”
“The trust has another amendment.”
He opened the document.
A clause buried beneath the legal language.
Transfer of ownership may be contested if the beneficiary is proven to be acting on fraudulent information.
I looked at him.
“So Julian can challenge the trust.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Marcus stared at the screen.
“By proving your father wasn't your father.”
I went completely still.
May you like
Mara whispered:
“There's the real secret.”
