Chapter 3 - YOUR FATHER'S SECRET
My father had been dead for fifteen years.
Yet somehow, his name had appeared in the middle of my husband's financial conspiracy.
I spent the entire morning trying to understand what that meant.
By noon, Diana had obtained a copy of the trust document.
She placed it in front of me.
"This was created twenty-nine years ago."
I read the first page.
Trustor: Michael Bennett.
My father.
Beneficiary: Sofia Bennett.
Trustee: Charles Walsh.
I stared at the name.
Charles Walsh.
Iris's father.
The same man Nathan had been sending millions of dollars to.
My hands began shaking.
"Why would my father make him trustee?"
Diana shook her head.
"That's what we need to find out."
I turned the page.
There were instructions.
If Sofia Bennett reaches the age of thirty-five, the trustee must release the principal assets.
I looked at the date.
My thirty-fifth birthday was six months away.
"What happens then?"
Diana read the next page.
"Control of several investment properties transfers to you."
"How many?"
"Seven."
"Value?"
She looked at me.
"Approximately thirty-two million dollars."
I couldn't breathe.
Thirty-two million.
My father had never been wealthy.
At least, that's what I'd always believed.
We lived in a modest house.
He drove an old Buick.
He worked long hours.
After he died, Mom told me he had left us almost nothing.
But now I was learning that he had secretly built an empire.
And someone had spent years keeping me away from it.
"Why didn't my mother know?"
Diana hesitated.
"She may have."
I immediately called Mom.
She answered on the first ring.
"Mom, did you know about Dad's trust?"
Silence.
"Mom."
Finally, she said:
"Your father told me not to tell you."
"Why?"
"He said you weren't safe."
I closed my eyes.
"From who?"
"I don't know."
"You do."
She began crying.
"Sofia, your father and Evelyn Cole knew each other."
My stomach turned.
"My mother-in-law?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"They were business partners."
I stared at Diana.
She heard everything.
"How long?"
"Before Nathan was born."
I felt a chill.
"Mom, what happened?"
"Your father discovered that Evelyn was stealing from their company."
I looked at the trust document.
"How much?"
"Millions."
"And Dad exposed her?"
"No."
Mom's voice became barely audible.
"He disappeared."
I froze.
"What?"
"Not died."
"Disappeared."
"But his death certificate..."
"Was filed three weeks later."
I stood.
"Who filed it?"
Mom didn't answer.
"Mom."
"Evelyn."
The room went silent.
Diana immediately reached for her phone.
"Don't move," she said.
I barely heard her.
My entire childhood had been built around a story.
My father died suddenly.
My mother raised me alone.
Nathan's family welcomed me.
And eventually, I married Nathan.
But what if none of those events were separate?
What if they were connected?
Diana pulled up corporate records.
"There was a company called Bennett Cole Investments."
I stared at the screen.
"My father's company."
"And Evelyn's."
"What happened to it?"
"Officially, it dissolved twenty-eight years ago."
"Officially?"
Diana looked at me.
"Unofficially, its assets were transferred to another corporation."
"Which one?"
She typed.
Then stopped.
Her face went pale.
"The Cole Family Legacy Trust."
I laughed once.
"No."
Diana looked at me.
"Yes."
My husband's family hadn't simply married into my life.
They had built their wealth from my father's company.
And my father had created a trust to reclaim it for me.
But there was one problem.
Charles Walsh controlled the trust.
And Charles Walsh was Iris's father.
I suddenly understood why Nathan had been sending him money.
He wasn't paying Iris.
He was paying the man who controlled my inheritance.
But why would Charles cooperate?
Then Diana found the answer.
"There's a clause."
"What clause?"
She turned the document toward me.
"If the beneficiary dies before reaching thirty-five, the trust assets transfer to the trustee."
I stared at the page.
My thirty-fifth birthday was six months away.
If I died before then, Charles Walsh would control thirty-two million dollars.
I whispered:
"So Nathan doesn't need to divorce me."
Diana nodded.
"He needs you dead."
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number appeared.
STOP DIGGING, SOFIA.
The next message arrived immediately.
YOUR FATHER DIDN'T DISAPPEAR BY ACCIDENT.
I stared at the screen.
Then a third message appeared.
HE WAS MURDERED.
And underneath it was a photograph.
My father.
May you like
Alive.
Taken two weeks before he supposedly died.
