DELORIS INSERTED THE pen drive into her computer and pulled the documents up on her screen.

“I’ll send it to your iPad,” she said as her fingers flew over the keys.

“And mine?” my father asked.

Deloris looked over her shoulder. “Do you really need it twice?”

Oren shrugged. “Just curious if you have my private email address.”

She laughed as my iPad dinged with the incoming email.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, leaning back and bringing his tablet to life. “This is a long last will and testament,” he continued. “I mean, I’ve seen some crazy shit, but old man Montague took control to a whole new level, all the way down to dictating his granddaughter’s future. You can look at the entire document, but I suggest we all concentrate on Article XII for right now.”

I looked over at Isaac. He was present, but silent. Instead of scanning the document, he was watching Charli’s necklace app.

“Any change?” I asked.

“No, sir. She’s back at the manor.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder if this heart-rate indicator works.”

“Of course it does,” Deloris said. “Why?”

“Like now, if it’s working, her pulse is ridiculously high. One hundred and thirty. That’s double what it is when she’s sleeping.”

My skin prickled. “If she just would have stayed.”

Oren turned my way. “A week ago?”

“No, today. I had her for a short time.”

“And you let her go?”

“She won’t leave her mother or Chelsea.”

“Fuck!” Oren stood. “You don’t think they’ve figured out that you two were together, do you?”

“No. We took care of everything.”

Oren turned on me. “We’re so fucking close. Don’t blow it because you’re…”

“Because I’m what? I’m worried sick. I needed to see her, to touch her. I’m beyond frightened with every new thing we learn about Spencer. I knew he was a slime in business, but now… I’m not going to blow this. I’ll storm that damn party if she doesn’t get to that road.”

“Gentlemen,” Deloris interjected, “we have a document.”

I took a deep breath and turned away from my father’s icy stare.

Oren had to have the last word. “This isn’t just about Alexandria. She’s the strongest one of the lot. She can make it one more day.”

His words made my skin bristle. I sat back down and picked up my tablet, praying he was right.

But if he was, then why the hell was her pulse elevated?

Focusing on the screen, I scrolled the pages, slowing for the subtitles until I reached: Article XII Provisions for Montague Holdings.

The room fell silent as we all read:

 

If at the time of my passing these provisions have not been satisfied, it is the responsibility of my heirs, Adelaide Montague Fitzgerald and Alexandria Charles Montague Collins, to willingly and legally satisfy the following criteria upon the appropriate dates. Failure to do so will result in the loss of all inheritance including but not limited to assets, property, company shares, personal properties, and the residence and remainder of my Estate.

As is now the case, it is essential that Adelaide Montague remain married to Alton Fitzgerald for the remainder of their earthly lives. As Adelaide’s husband, Alton Fitzgerald will have all rights set forth as the primary stockholder in Montague Corporation. If either party files for divorce or attempts to end the marriage, all Montague holdings revert to Alexandria Collins.

 

I stopped there. “Why on earth hasn’t Alex’s mother done that?”

“Divorce?” Oren asked.

“Yes, she would be free and the holdings would be outside of Fitzgerald’s control.”

Oren pressed his lips together. “I blame myself for not getting my hands on this document ten years ago.”

Deloris turned toward my father. Her expression wanted more. I hadn’t told her the history between my dad and Charli’s mom, only that he wanted to help. Though she looked curious, I knew she wouldn’t ask. Finally, she turned back to her screen and we all continued to read.

 

Upon the death of either A. Fitzgerald or A.M. Fitzgerald prior to the coming of age of A. Collins, all Montague holdings will be held in trust for her until the age of twenty-five or until she has completed a college degree, whichever comes first.

Once the age or degree completion has occurred, in order for A. Collins to inherit the Montague holdings and assets and to fulfill the requirements set forth in this legal document she must adhere to the following:

Being of the legal age of twenty-five (or having completed her college degree), Alexandria Collins must agree to a legal union with a husband who too will represent her and their biological children’s shares in Montague Corporation as well as in the running of private Montague assets.

 

“I volunteer,” I mumbled. It wasn’t a proposal, but that didn’t make it any less valid. Charli and I had never talked about marriage, but I’d do it, not because of this damn will or anything related to her family’s money. I’d take her naked and penniless. The first part of those conditions brought images to my mind that were better left subdued.

I turned back to the tablet.

 

It is my desire, and thus forth the determination of this Will, that A. Collins will marry Edward Bryce Carmichael Spencer, the son of Suzanna Carmichael Spencer, as outlined below.

 

“How the fuck is this legal?”

“I’m not sure it is,” Deloris said.

 

E. Spencer must first complete undergraduate and graduate school and prove himself worthy of Montague Corporation. Upon completion of his postgraduate degree, no more than eighteen months may transpire before their union.

 

“Prove himself worthy?” Oren asked aloud. “Does that include accusations of abuse and suspicion of foul play in a woman’s disappearance?”

Though no one answered and we continued to read, for the first time, I was more curious about Melissa Summers’s disappearance. Fuck Infidelity. If the entire company were to become public with the investigation, it was worth it if it saved Charli.

 

Upon their marriage, controlling interest in all things Montague will revert to A. Collins and E. Spencer, with provisions for the continued support and oversight by A. Fitzgerald and A.M. Fitzgerald until the time it is determined that either or both is no longer competent.

 

“Do you think…?” I began.

“That the bastard is making the case for Adelaide’s mental competency before it is legally brought into question? I sure as hell do,” Oren said. “I even have some information on that subject. I’ll tell you later. Keep reading.”

 

If this union does not occur, all Montague holdings and assets will be liquidated. The assets will henceforth be bequeathed to Fitzgerald Investments, leaving both heirs and their descendants without Montague assets.

If the marriage of A. Collins and E. Spencer fails to survive, resulting in divorce or premature death, all Montague holdings and assets will be liquidated and henceforth bequeathed to Fitzgerald Investments, with one exception: in the instance of a male heir over the age of twenty-five, the designated heir will retain all holdings and controlling interest.

If it is found that any one person mentioned in this article willfully and purposely hinders my wishes, that beneficiary will be stricken from receiving his or her share of the inheritance.

 

“This can’t be legal. It would never hold up under appeal,” I said.

“Beneficiary stipulations,” Oren said, as if the phrase were something he referred to daily.

“What?”

“It’s the imposing of stipulations for inheritance on beneficiaries. It’s done more often than you think.”

“Often it’s something like completing school or where funds are only available to pay for education or housing,” Deloris added.

“This is bullshit. Charli doesn’t need this. She doesn’t want it. Why is she going through with this?”

“Is she?” Deloris asked. “Or is she biding her time for her mother?”

We should have talked more this afternoon. I should have asked more questions.

“This doesn’t change a thing,” I announced after finishing. “We’re going to go on with our plans. Fuck Montague.”

“Not so fast.”

We all turned to Oren.

“I told you that there’s a codicil. Scroll to near the end.”

Oren reached for his phone and sent a text.

“An important date?” I asked.

“In a way.”

Before I could begin reading, there was a knock on the door.

“Expecting someone?” Deloris asked.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Oren said as he stood and walked toward the door. “Turn off the Magnolia Woods feed.”

With a button, the TV screen went black and Oren reached for the handle.

A young man stood nervously at the door.

“Mr. Crawford.”

The boy nodded. “Mr. Demetri.”

“Come in,” Oren opened the door wide, his invitation too gracious.

I stood. “Mr. Crawford? What is the—”

“During my perseverance…” Oren began as the young man shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next and looked about the room. “…I learned of a job Mr. Crawford had recently lost.”

The boy nodded. “You can call me Stephen.”

“Yes, well Stephen was employed by Hamilton and Porter, the law firm who held this will. Stephen had the pleasure of working with Adelaide regarding this same will.”

My father suddenly had my attention. “Mrs. Fitzgerald knew about it?”

“Yes,” Stephen said. “I-I worked with her on several occasions.” He looked toward Oren.

“Go on, son. These are my colleagues. We’re all trying to help Mrs. Fitzgerald and if you can help us help her, we can help you.”

He swallowed. “You have the will?”

“Yes.”

“Um, okay. Well, there’s a codicil.”

“We just got to that,” I volunteered.

“There are a few things you might not realize if you hadn’t worked with Adela—I mean, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

“Like what?” Oren prompted.

“Sir, this is confidential information.”

“Are you still employed by Hamilton and Porter?”

“No, but I signed a non-disclosure—”

“Did anything feel wrong about what Ralph Porter asked you to do?”

“I feel like I abandoned Mrs. Fitzgerald. She was really excited about the codicil.”

Oren turned to Deloris. “Turn the feed back on.”

I nodded.

The TV filled with a picture of Adelaide’s room.

“Stephen, when was the last time you saw Adelaide?” Oren asked.

He stood taller. “It was right before I was let go. We had a meeting scheduled near the beginning of October, but I wasn’t allowed to meet with her. The last time was nearly a month earlier. She would schedule and then reschedule.”

Oren pointed to the screen. “Look closely. That’s Adelaide.”

He sucked in a breath as he walked toward the screen. “What happened to her?”

“That’s what we are trying to find out. Could it be that she learned information she wasn’t supposed to know?”

Stephen’s eyes widened in horror. “Shit. I… this is dangerous. Surely…”

Oren’s hand came down on Stephen’s shoulder. “Son, no one will know your role or that you helped us. I can assure you of your safety and that of your young family. How old is that baby?”

My stomach twisted at the ease of my father’s words. Deloris’s eyes darted my way. It had been years since I’d witnessed this side of him in action, and yet at this moment, I didn’t loathe his choice or strategy.

“Fifteen months.”

“Stephen, you help us, and you and that pretty young wife and your little son will do much better. You can transfer to any law school in the country. I’ve seen your grades. You’re a hardworking young man. It’s a shame to waste your education at Savannah Law.”

“It’s a good school…”

“So is Stanford, Harvard, Yale…”

He turned back to the screen. “I liked her. Will she get better?”

“Yes,” Oren replied unequivocally.

“Can I see the codicil?”

Oren nodded at Deloris and it appeared on the TV, replacing Magnolia Woods.

“Okay,” Stephen said, scanning the words. “See this?” He pointed at the date and the initials CM. “This date is obviously the date the codicil was approved. What isn’t stated is that according to Adelaide…” He looked at Oren as if he needed his permission to use her first name.

“Go on.”

“According to her, that is the same date her father died.”

“So this isn’t legal?” Deloris asked.

Stephen shook his head. “No, it is. Mr. Montague passed away in his sleep that night from a sudden heart attack. He was legally competent when he approved the document.”

When no one spoke, he went on. “I thought that was rather strange. I asked Natalie about it. She’s one of the legal assistants. She told me not to worry about it.”

“So you didn’t?”

“I didn’t say anything. But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s strangely coincidental.”

“Can you explain the codicil?” I asked.

“You’ve seen the will, so you know about Article XII?”

We nodded.

“It’s weird shit. I mean imposing beneficiary stipulations is a common practice, but I’ve never seen… even in school… anything as strange as the mandates in this one.” He scrunched his features. “Can you imagine, some dead guy dictating who you have to marry?”

“The codicil?” I asked again, the agitation not lost in my tone.

“Yes, well. In a nutshell, it qualifies the provisions in Article XII, basically saying that any manipulation by any of the interested parties alters the provisions.”

I shook my head at the reality. This addition to old man Montague’s will said that if anyone does anything to dissuade, to interfere with the natural progression of, or to stop the planned arrangement, then that person null and voids his or her assets or any claim to said assets. It also nullifies the bequeathing of the liquidated assets to Fitzgerald Investments. Obviously he had some trust issues.

“So if the marriage doesn’t go as planned, Montague Corporation will remain a viable entity, not being liquidated as originally set forth in Article XII?” I asked.

Stephen shrugged, scanning the document. “It does specify that the current board of trustees will be dissolved, and the entire corporate structure will become a publicly traded company. And if the marriage of her daughter to the guy named doesn’t occur, or either person marries someone else, this will then enters probate where all interested parties must make a case for their rights. Assuming that the earlier mentioned interference isn’t an issue, theoretically, the estate will be equally divided amongst the living heirs.”

“So for clarification, this codicil null and voided the consequences of Article XII?” Deloris asked.

“Yes,” Stephen confirmed.

“I wonder what made Mr. Montague change his mind,” she added.

“Miss Adelaide wondered the same thing.” Stephen turned back to Oren. “I hope this can help her. She was so excited about the codicil. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t known about it. She kept saying, if only… if only.”

Oren reached for the edge of the table, stabilizing himself as he turned back to the room. “Thank you, Stephen.” He reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out a legal-sized envelope. From the look of it, I assumed it held cash. “This should help you to relocate. Contact my assistant. The choice of schools is yours.”

Stephen held the envelope for a minute before passing it back. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’d love to attend any one of those schools you mentioned. However, I can’t.” He shook his head. “Mr. Fitzgerald offered me money too. I didn’t take it either. It’s bad enough that I broke the non-disclosure agreement, but it wasn’t for the money. I was serious. Miss Adelaide was a kind woman. She doesn’t deserve to be wherever that is. I tried to help her.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid the information I helped her find and understand may have led to what happened to her. For that reason, I’m happy to help you.

“I won’t tell anyone, and I trust you won’t either. Just help her. And if you can… that date thing has kept me awake at night. It just feels wrong.”

I stood and stepped forward, fucking impressed with this man’s balls. At the same time, I knew Oren’s game—the indebtedness that fueled mutual obligation. I couldn’t predict Oren’s next move. Instead, I extended my hand. “Stephen, you’re a good man. You’ll make a fine attorney. I know someone else who believes in doing the right thing and helping those who can’t help themselves. The law profession would be a better place if there were more like the two of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Demetri.”

My grip tightened as Isaac’s attention shifted from his phone to Stephen. “We weren’t introduced.”

His gaze shot between Oren and me. “I’m sorry if I presumed. It’s the resemblance. Are you not related?”

“Mr. Crawford, take care of yourself.”

“And that baby,” Oren added.

Deloris stood. “May I show you to the door?”

“Can I…? Will I know if you help her?”

“I suspect there will be rumors.”