“Because the trust required you to be formally notified on your twenty-eighth birthday.”
I was twenty-seven.
My birthday was in six weeks.
“Why would he wait?”
“He believed you would be safer once you were older and financially independent.”
A bitter sound escaped me.
“He was wrong.”
“No,” Mr. Grayson said quietly. “He may have been too late.”
Detective Beckett asked, “What do you mean?”
The attorney hesitated.
“Three weeks ago, someone attempted to obtain certified copies of the trust documents using a forged authorization bearing Sadie’s signature.”
Wyatt’s face hardened.
“Who?”
“The request came through a company connected to Melanie Davis.”
My stomach twisted.
“What company?”
“Melrose Residential Partners.”
I recognized the name immediately.
Melanie had claimed it was a small interior-design business.
She had posted pictures online of luxury apartments, expensive furniture, and champagne celebrations. My mother praised her constantly for becoming an entrepreneur.
But Melanie had never explained how she made money.
Mr. Grayson continued.
“After the forged request failed, someone filed documents claiming Sadie had voluntarily transferred her beneficial interest.”
“I never signed anything.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because your grandfather required any transfer to be witnessed by me in person.”
Detective Beckett leaned toward the phone.
“Mr. Grayson, can you send those records to law enforcement?”
“I can send copies immediately, but there’s something else.”
A strange pressure built in my chest.
“What?”
“This morning, a deed was filed transferring your parents’ residence and two adjacent parcels to Melrose Residential Partners.”
The hospital room seemed to tilt.
Wyatt gripped the bedrail.
“The attack happened tonight,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Then the transfer was filed before Sadie arrived at the house.”
“Yes.”
Detective Beckett’s expression became grim.
“That suggests premeditation.”
Mr. Grayson lowered his voice.
