Chapter 2 - THE DEAD MAN’S INSTRUCTIONS
Phoebe arrived twenty minutes later carrying a leather briefcase.
She didn't greet Flynn.
She walked straight past him and sat beside my bed.
“Is he still here?”
I nodded.
Phoebe looked at Flynn.
“You have exactly five minutes.”
Flynn scoffed.
“This is my family.”
“No,” Phoebe replied. “This is a legal proceeding involving your family.”
She placed three documents on the table.
Flynn glanced at the first.
Then the second.
By the third, his hands were shaking.
“What is this?”
“The original Vance succession agreement.”
“That document doesn't exist.”
Phoebe smiled.
“That’s what your father wanted you to believe.”
Flynn stared at me.
“You've had this?”
“For six years.”
His jaw tightened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father specifically instructed me not to.”
Silence filled the room.
Flynn looked at the signature.
His father's handwriting was unmistakable.
The letter contained only seven paragraphs.
But one sentence changed everything.
MY SON MUST NEVER CONTROL THE FAMILY TRUST.
Flynn looked up.
“That can't be real.”
“It is,” Phoebe said.
“Why?”
“Because your father knew you.”
That answer wounded him more than anything else.
Flynn's phone rang.
He answered.
“Hello?”
His CFO's voice came through loudly enough for us to hear.
“Sir, the New York accounts are frozen.”
Flynn stood.
“What?”
“The trust administrator has suspended your authority.”
“Who authorized it?”
There was a pause.
“Mabel Vance.”
Flynn slowly turned toward me.
The CFO continued.
“And there's something else.”
“What?”
“The administrator discovered another beneficiary.”
Flynn's face went pale.
“Who?”
The CFO hesitated.
“Your father's second child.”
Flynn dropped the phone.
I watched him carefully.
He looked genuinely shocked.
That was when I realized something.
Flynn hadn't known.
Neither had I.
Phoebe opened her briefcase.
“There is one more issue.”
She removed an old photograph.
It showed a young woman standing beside Flynn's father outside a courthouse.
A little boy stood between them.
The boy looked about six years old.
Flynn stared at the photograph.
“Who is that?”
Phoebe answered quietly.
“Your half-brother.”
Flynn stepped backward.
“No.”
“The child was born before your father married your mother.”
“That's impossible.”
“Your father spent decades paying to keep his existence hidden.”
I looked at Phoebe.
“Why reveal him now?”
“Because the trust requires all legitimate heirs to be notified before certain assets can be transferred.”
Flynn suddenly laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was frightened.
“So this is about money?”
“No,” Phoebe said.
“This is about control.”
She opened another file.
Inside was a handwritten note.
The handwriting belonged to Flynn's father.
I read it aloud.
“If my son ever brings another woman into the family while his wife is carrying my granddaughter, activate the contingency.”
Flynn's eyes widened.
“What contingency?”
Phoebe looked at me.
I answered.
“The one your father created specifically for you.”
Flynn's phone rang again.
This time it was Selina.
He answered.
“What?”
Her voice was trembling.
“Flynn…”
“What happened?”
“They just served me papers.”
“What papers?”
There was a long silence.
Then Selina whispered:
“They're saying the baby isn't yours.”
Flynn stared at me.
And for the first time since I had known him, he looked completely helpless.
Because the secret wasn't only that he had another child.
The secret was that someone had spent fifteen months convincing him that child was his.
May you like
And now the DNA evidence said otherwise.
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