Chapter 24
ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW
The law office of Berkman, Wade, and Associates smelled of leather, money, and superiority. I adjusted my black dress and studied the others in the conference room. Mom dabbed at her eyes with a monogran All of us performing our assigned roles. The grieving family. The heartbroken ex-
husband. A perfect tableau of loss.
And why wouldn't we? Camille was dead. I knew that for certain. The men I'd hired hadn't just scared her as originally planned, they'd gone further, forcing her car off that bridge, watching it sink into the dark wa Martin Greene entered, carrying a leather portfolio. Dad's longtime lawyer looked appropriately grave as he took a Scal
"Thank you all for coming." he said. "With the court having legally declared Camille deceased in absentia, we can now proceed with her last will and testament."
"Is this really necessary?" Mom asked, voice wavering. "It's only been six months.”
"In cases of drowning where no body is
recovered, the court can grant a death certificate after reasonable search efforts have concluded," Martin explained.
"As Camille had significant independent assets that require disposition, the judge approved the declaration last week."
I kept my expression neutral, though my mind raced. Independent assets? What independent assets?
“།
wasn't aware my sister had estate planning," I said, injecting just the right note of confusion.
twenty-fifths
Martin opened his portfolio. "Camille updated her will last year, shortly after her As you may recall, that was when she received her inheritance from her grandfather."
My blood froze. Grandfather Lewis. Dad's father. The crusty old man who had doted on Camille, his only biological grandchild, while largely ignoring me.
"What inheritance?" I asked
sharply, then immediately softened my tone. "I mean, she never mentioned receiving anything substantial,"
Dad finally looked up. "My father left Camille a portion of his estate when she
turned twenty-five. It was private, between them."
"How large a portion?" The question escaped before I could temper it.
Martin cleared his throat. “Mr. Lewis Senior established a trust for Camille valued at approximately thirty million dollars, along with the Cedar Hill estate."
The room spun around me. Thirty million dollars. Plus a mansion on twenty acres of prime land. And she had never said a word.
"That's impossible," I whispered "I would have known."
"Camille wanted it kept quiet," Dad said. "She said money changes
how people see you."
and testament of Camille Elizabeth Lewis, revised and signed
leaned forward. Whatever secret fortune she'd hidden, it would surely
collection of family photographs and my gratitude for the
paused, glancing at my parents. Dad nodded stiffly. Mom's
she may come to
taken and altered. A chill ran down my
that next
a family heirloom
financial assets, investment accounts, personal property not specifically mentioned, the Cedar Hill estate, and the entire balance of the trust established by my gra Here it was.
Camille Lewis Memorial Fund
sorry," I said, my voice unnaturally high, "but could
up. "The entirety of Camille's estate, after specific bequests, is to be donated to the
words burst from me.
will is quite clear and
composure. "That's thirty million dollars and a prime piece of real estate.
but photographs
envelope. "She also left a letter to be
nodded his permission,
seal on the envelope
now learning something I kept from
because I needed to understand its power without influence from others."" I dug my fingernails into my palmus. Even in presumed death,
"The money gave me
consider who I really was outside of other people's expectations and manipulations. Freedom to make choices based on my own values rather than seeking approv My gaze flicked to Stefan, who looked physically ill. Had he known about the money
Lighthouse Foundation specifically assists young women transitioning from foster c my parents, thank you for
Mom resumed
Stefan, I've returned your
but because family legacies
"And
journals with hope rather than malice. In them, you'll find the unfiltered thoughts of someone who
me to be
choice if not by blood.* A pointed reminder
illusions that my modest fortune
my already privileged family, but I believe it can transform the futures of dozens of young women who start with nothing. In this way, perhaps my departure might create meaning bey Martin folded
silence felt charged with my
Gone. To strangers. To foster girls who would never
I finally said. "She
Martin raised
was properly executed with witnesses who
competence. The charitable intent is
her family," I insisted, looking to my parents for support. "Doesn't that count
of
"We could
turning to Dad.
finally spoke, his voice tired. "Rose, enough. Camille made
But Dad..."
daughter is dead. I won't dishonor her memory by fighting over money none of us need." Mom reached for his hand. "Richard is right. This
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