Chapter 3 - The Discovery of the Document
The room spun. I sat down heavily on the floor, the pain in my stomach completely forgotten.
My mother didn't love Lily. She didn't even like children. Throughout my own childhood, Diane had treated me and Chloe like accessories—things to be displayed when convenient and ignored when burdensome. Why would she go to such extreme lengths, risking criminal charges, to steal my daughter?
The answer lay deeper in Chloe’s phone. I scrolled through attached documents and found an email from a law firm specializing in probate and estate planning: Vance & Sterling LLP.
The email was addressed to Diane.
Dear Ms. Vance, Per our discussion regarding your late husband’s trust, the stipulations are clear. The remaining three million dollars of the family trust cannot be released to you or Chloe. Because your late husband bypassed both of you in his final amendment, the funds are held exclusively for his biological grandchild, Lily Vance, to be managed by her legal guardian until she turns twenty-five. However, if the current legal guardian (Emily Vance) is declared unfit or relinquishes her rights, and you are appointed as the sole legal guardian, you will have full discretionary access to the trust's administrative fees—amounting to roughly $150,000 annually—as well as the authority to borrow against the principal for 'the child's upbringing and specialized care.'
The puzzle pieces snapped together with terrifying clarity.
My father had died two years ago. He had known exactly what kind of women his wife and younger daughter were. In an act of quiet rebellion, he had left his hard-earned wealth to Lily, ensuring she would have a future. But he had inadvertently placed a massive target on my daughter’s back.
Diane was broke. She had spent her life living beyond her means, and Chloe was following exactly in her footsteps. They didn't want Lily. They wanted her trust fund. And they were willing to destroy a four-year-old girl’s psyche to get their hands on it.
Suddenly, a loud knock rattled the front door.
I froze. I crept over to the peephole, my heart hammering against my ribs.
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Standing outside wasn't Diane or Chloe. It was a woman in a sharp gray blazer holding a leather briefcase. Beside her stood a man in a police uniform.
The war hadn't just begun. It was already on my doorstep.
