Chapter 13 - THE BLOODLINE CLAUSE
Lily shrank backward, burying her face into Margaret’s neck. Margaret took a deliberate step backward, placing herself squarely between the child and the attorney.
"Keep your gloves to yourself, Julian," Margaret said, her tone cold enough to cut glass. "You didn't drive three hours from the city on a Tuesday morning out of family affection. Say what you came to say, or get off my daughter’s porch."
Julian’s smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed. "Technically, Margaret, it isn't your daughter's porch anymore. Nor is it Daniel's."
Behind Margaret, Daniel stiffened. "We had an agreement, Julian. The release was signed at the county registrar’s office. You took the payout."
"I took an *interim* distribution," Julian corrected, taking a sleek leather folio from inside his coat. He tapped it against his palm. "That was before the forensic audit on Emily’s medical records concluded last week."
The world seemed to stop spinning. The wind howling through the pine trees sounded distant, muffled beneath the sudden roar of blood in Margaret’s ears.
*Forensic audit?*
"What are you talking about?" Daniel demanded, his voice cracking with a sudden, brittle panic that he couldn't entirely mask. "The coroner ruled it an accidental interaction. The sleeping pills and the antihistamines. The file is closed."
"The coroner’s office in this backwater county is run by your second cousin, Daniel," Julian said smoothly, stepping closer. "The state attorney general’s office took a second look when they noticed a certain offshore transfer originating from Emily’s personal account forty-eight hours before she ceased breathing. A transfer of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Authorized by a signature that an independent handwriting expert has deemed... an amateur forgery."
Daniel’s face drained of color. He looked as though he had been struck across the face with an iron pipe.
"You're lying," Daniel hissed, but his fingers were twitching at his sides, opening and closing in reflexive spasms.
"I don't need to lie; I have the bank’s certified affidavit," Julian replied. He turned his attention back to Margaret, his voice softening into something entirely predatory. "Emily wasn't depressed, Margaret. She was terrified. She was moving assets out of Daniel’s reach to secure Lily’s future in an independent trust. And she left a physical codicil—a handwritten addition to the will—stating that if she died of unnatural causes, full custody of Lily would revert immediately to an independent guardian, completely disinheriting Daniel."
"And who is the independent guardian?" Margaret asked, her throat sandpaper dry.
"Me," Julian said.
A sharp gasp escaped Lily’s throat. Margaret felt the child trembling violently, her little ribcage shuddering against Margaret’s arms.
"You don't give a damn about this child," Margaret spat, fury overtaking her fear. "You want the estate! You want the land Emily inherited from her grandfather that’s sitting right on the municipal development border!"
"I want what the law dictates is mine to manage," Julian replied, unfazed. "The probate judge has issued an emergency summons for tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock. If Daniel cannot produce the original deed and the physical codicil key Emily registered in the state registry, temporary custody will be transferred to Child Protective Services pending a full homicide investigation."
Julian stepped back down the porch steps, his shoes crunching softly on the gravel. He paused at his car door, resting his arm on the roof, looking up at the two adults standing on the decaying porch.
"Oh, and Daniel?" Julian called out over the idling engine. "The police aren't far behind me. If I were you, I’d stop chopping firewood. You’re going to need your energy for the interrogation room."
The black sedan reversed down the winding driveway, kicked up a cloud of grey dust, and disappeared down the country road, leaving behind a silence so suffocating that Margaret could hear the frantic rhythm of Daniel’s breathing behind her.
She didn't turn around. She didn't want to see what was on his face.
"Get Lily inside," Daniel said. His voice was no longer loud, nor was it theatrical. It was flat, dead, and lethal.
"Daniel—"
May you like
"Get her inside the house, Margaret," he repeated, not shouting, but taking out the brass envelope opener and running his thumb along its dull edge until his skin went pale. "Now."
***
