The server remained. “Sir, the estate manager asked me to give this to you immediately.”
Warren snatched it, annoyed. Beverly leaned close.
“What is it?”
He opened the envelope.
According to the video, his smile lasted seven seconds.
Then it fell apart.
The letter was simple.
Aster Hall was not owned by Warren Caldwell.
It had never been owned by Warren Caldwell.
It belonged to the Hale Granddaughters Trust, established for the benefit of Sadie Elizabeth Caldwell and June Margaret Caldwell, with Allison Hale Caldwell serving as trustee until both children reached legal age.
Warren had been granted a one-day event license under strict conditions.
He was not permitted to claim ownership.
He was not permitted to use the estate as collateral.
He was not permitted to represent the property as part of his personal assets.
Any violation triggered immediate termination of the license, full financial liability for the event, and enforcement of the personal guarantee he had signed while begging my parents for a three-hundred-thousand-dollar investment.
There had never been an investment.
Only paperwork Warren had been too arrogant to read.
By the time he finished the first page, the second envelope arrived.
This one was carried by a process server in a gray suit.
The quartet stopped playing.
The fountain kept running.
