Chapter 7 - The Money Ethan Never Knew About
Laura's lawyer was eighty-two years old and still worked three mornings a week.
His name was Samuel Price.
When I called him, I expected confusion.
Instead, the moment I said Ethan's name, he became silent.
“Frank Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“I wondered when you would call.”
That sentence made every hair on my arms rise.
“You expected this?”
“I expected something.”
“What does that mean?”
“Come to my office.”
Samuel's office sat above an old bank building in downtown Madison.
Ethan came with me.
Rachel approved it.
The office smelled like paper and coffee.
Samuel looked at Ethan for a long moment before speaking.
“You look like your mother.”
Ethan's eyes dropped.
“You knew her?”
“For twelve years.”
Samuel opened a file.
“Laura came to me shortly after her diagnosis.”
I already knew what was coming.
“She created the trust.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Samuel looked at Ethan.
“It belongs to you. You deserve to know.”
Then he said:
“Approximately nine hundred and forty thousand dollars at the time it was funded.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
I thought I had misheard.
“Almost a million?”
“Life insurance, investment accounts, and proceeds from the sale of property Laura inherited from her grandmother.”
“How much now?”
Samuel's expression tightened.
“That is the problem.”
He turned the laptop toward us.
“The trust should currently contain roughly 1.1 million.”
“Should?”
“It contains approximately seven hundred thirty-two thousand.”
I stared at the screen.
“Where did the rest go?”
“Some legitimate expenses. Tuition. Medical insurance. Camps. Educational costs.”
“And the rest?”
“Withdrawals authorized by Daniel.”
Ethan whispered, “Dad took it?”
Samuel chose his words carefully.
“Your father was permitted to approve reasonable expenses for your health, education, maintenance, and support.”
“How much did he take?”
“Over three hundred thousand dollars has moved through the trust since Laura died.”
I felt sick.
“That doesn't mean all of it was improper,” Samuel said.
“But?”
“But there are transactions I cannot reconcile.”
Restaurant debt.
Home renovations.
A vehicle lease.
Credit card payments.
Private school tuition—for Chloe.
I looked at him.
“He used Ethan's trust for Chloe?”
Samuel sighed.
“That appears to be one of the issues.”
Ethan didn't react.
That worried me more than if he'd screamed.
“Why didn't you stop him?”
“I am not the trustee.”
“Who is?”
“Daniel.”
I stood.
“Then what exactly was your role?”
“Laura's attorney.”
“That doesn't help Ethan.”
“No.”
Samuel's voice remained calm.
“But this might.”
He reached into the file and removed an envelope.
My name was written across it.
Frank Bennett.
Laura's handwriting.
I sat back down.
“When did she write that?”
“Three weeks before she died.”
“Why didn't I get it?”
“She instructed me to hold it unless one of three things occurred.”
“What things?”
“Daniel attempted to invade the trust principal beyond an established limit.”
He raised one finger.
“Ethan was placed in long-term residential care.”
Second finger.
“Or credible allegations arose that Daniel or another household member had abused or exploited Ethan.”
Nobody spoke.
All three had happened.
Samuel handed me the envelope.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Inside were four pages.
Laura began simply.
Frank, if Samuel is giving you this letter, then something I was afraid of has happened.
I stopped reading.
Ethan looked at me.
“Read it out loud.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
So I did.
Laura wrote that she loved Daniel.
She also wrote that grief changed people.
During her illness, Daniel had become dependent on anyone who made decisions for him.
He avoided conflict.
He let stronger personalities take control.
Laura feared that after she was gone, someone could manipulate him.
She feared even more that Daniel might allow it because confrontation frightened him.
Then came the part that crushed me.
If Ethan ever tells you he is afraid to go home, believe him first and investigate second.
I had to stop.
Ethan covered his mouth.
Samuel looked away.
I continued.
Laura had named a successor trustee if Daniel were removed.
Me.
I looked at Samuel.
“I’m successor trustee?”
“Yes.”
“Can Daniel be removed?”
“If we can establish one of the triggering conditions.”
“We have hospital records.”
“Yes.”
“CPS records.”
“Yes.”
“The notebook.”
“Yes.”
“Fake medical paperwork.”
Samuel nodded.
“And potentially the recordings.”
He leaned back.
“Laura built protections into the trust.”
“What happens if Daniel abused it?”
“He loses control immediately.”
Ethan whispered, “Then he can't send me away?”
Samuel looked at him.
“No.”
For the first time since Thanksgiving, Ethan exhaled as if a door had opened.
Then Samuel's expression darkened.
“However, there's something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“The petition for residential treatment was not only about paying the facility.”
He pulled another document.
“If Ethan were declared medically incapable of participating in trust decisions after age eighteen, the court could appoint a continuing financial guardian.”
“Daniel?”
“Potentially.”
I stared at him.
“So this wasn't about four years.”
“No.”
“It was about controlling his money indefinitely.”
Samuel nodded.
Ethan went pale.
I remembered Melissa telling him he was unstable.
Crazy.
Dangerous.
Broken.
Not discipline.
Conditioning.
If they could convince Ethan that he couldn't trust himself, convincing a judge might come next.
Samuel turned to Ethan.
“Your mother anticipated more than I realized.”
He handed him another envelope.
This one had Ethan's name.
“My mom wrote me something?”
“Yes.”
“When can I open it?”
“She instructed me to give it to you if Daniel was ever removed as trustee.”
“Has he been?”
“Not yet.”
Ethan held the envelope anyway.
Then Samuel's assistant knocked.
“Mr. Price?”
“Yes?”
“There are two people downstairs asking for you.”
“Who?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“Daniel and Melissa Bennett.”
Samuel's face hardened.
“Did they say why?”
The assistant nodded.
“They said they know Frank is here.”
Ethan's hand closed around his mother's unopened letter.
May you like
Then Samuel's assistant added:
“And Melissa says she wants every trust document destroyed before the police see them.”
