Chapter 3 - The Reading of the Will
The luncheon ended prematurely as word spread through the dining room that Gabriel Ferrante had publicly rebuked the hosts. What had been intended as a lavish celebration of Marlene’s newly inherited wealth transformed into an awkward, hurried exodus. Guests made polite excuses, whispered among themselves by the coat racks, and slipped out into the overcast afternoon, casting curious glances at Hannah as they departed.
Within an hour, only immediate family remained inside Edmund’s grand, wood-paneled study: Aunt Marlene, Bram, Hannah, and Mr. Richard Vance, the family’s longtime estate attorney.
To Marlene’s utter fury, Gabriel Ferrante stood leaning against the marble fireplace at the back of the room, flanked by his two silent associates. He had refused to leave the estate, stating flatly that Edmund had formally requested his presence as an official observer.
Marlene sat in the center leather armchair, clutching a lace handkerchief she dabbed dramatically against perfectly dry eyes. Bram stood behind her, arms crossed, glaring venomously at Hannah, who sat quietly on a plain wooden stool near the bookshelf.
""I don't understand why outsiders are permitted in a private family legal matter,"" Marlene sneered, shooting a glare toward Gabriel before quickly looking away from his impassive gaze. ""Richard, let's get this formality over with. My father’s wishes were made clear to me years ago. Bram and I are prepared to take over the estate and settle Edmund's debts immediately.""
Mr. Vance, an elderly man with thick bifocals and a severe briefcase, cleared his throat dryly. He pulled out a bound stack of papers secured by red ribbon and placed it flat on the desk.
""Mrs. Marlene Vance-Sterling, Mr. Bram Sterling, and Miss Hannah Davis,"" the lawyer began formally. ""I have here the Last Will and Testament of Edmund Charles Davis, executed and officially notarized exactly forty-eight hours before his passing.""
Marlene’s head snapped up. Her fake tears vanished instantly. ""Forty-eight hours? That's ridiculous! My father was mentally incompetent in his final weeks! The will he drafted five years ago divided the estate equally between Bram and me, with a minor trust fund for Hannah! That is the only valid document!""
""Your father’s mental fitness was certified by three independent neurologists, Mrs. Sterling,"" Mr. Vance said coolly, tapping a certified medical document attached to the back of the folder. ""I have video recordings of his deposition as well. He was entirely lucid, remarkably articulate, and painfully aware of everything happening around him.""
Hannah looked up, her heart pounding against her ribs. She remembered the day Mr. Vance had visited the house with two doctors. Aunt Marlene had been away in the city getting her hair done, and Bram was playing golf. Edmund had sent Hannah to the local bakery to pick up blueberry scones, telling her he had minor paperwork to review with his old attorney.
Mr. Vance adjusted his glasses and began reading from the parchment.
""'I, Edmund Charles Davis, being of sound mind and memory, do hereby declare this my final act and will. To my daughter, Marlene, who found the time to visit me twice a year only when her credit lines were exhausted, I leave my silver mirror set—so that she may finally look into it and see what vanity has made of her.'""
Marlene gasped, rising from her chair in horror. ""What?! Is this some sick joke?!""
""'To my grandson, Bram,'"" Vance continued without pause, his voice steady and clinical, ""'who could not spare fifteen minutes to drive his dying grandfather to chemotherapy, but managed to draft an eviction notice for his cousin before my body was in the ground, I leave my collection of vintage alarm clocks—in the hope that he may finally wake up to the reality of his useless existence.'""
Bram’s face turned an ugly shade of crimson. ""This is slander! I'll contest this in probate! I'll drag this through court until every dime is spent on legal fees!""
""You won't have any dimes to spend, Bram,"" a smooth voice interjected from the fireplace.
Gabriel Ferrante stepped forward into the center of the room, tossing a sleek black folder onto the mahogany desk right next to the lawyer’s papers.
""What is that?"" Marlene shrieked, her voice shrill with mounting hysteria.
May you like
""That,"" Gabriel said, resting his hand on the back of the empty chair, ""is the deed to the promissory notes on your real estate company, your summer villa in the Hamptons, and Bram's imported luxury car dealership. Your father bought your debt six months ago through my private equity firm to keep you out of federal bankruptcy prison. And as of midnight yesterday, Edmund transferred every single one of those notes to the sole beneficiary of his entire estate.""
Mr. Vance nodded gravely, turning the final page of the will. ""To Hannah Davis, who sacrificed her youth, her comfort, and her peace to nurse me through darkness with unconditional love, I bequeath the estate, the family properties, the trust accounts, and total control over all family assets, valued at thirty-eight million dollars.""
