Brooke attempted a nervous laugh, but the sound cracked unpleasantly. “Is this some kind of sick joke, Diane?”
The woman at the head of the table stood up. “Mrs. Carter,” she said with professional gravity, “we are ready to proceed.”
I gave a short nod and turned to face my son.
“Before you start unpacking your lives here,” I said, “you should understand exactly who owns this property—and precisely why you were never actually invited.”
I slid a thick manila folder across the walnut table toward him.
He opened it slowly. As he read the first page, his eyes widened in disbelief.
CARTER FAMILY TRUST — AMENDMENT REMOVING BENEFICIARIES.
“Beneficiaries?” he whispered, looking up at me.
The attorney, Nora Patel, spoke with a calm, clinical authority. “Mrs. Carter established this trust several years ago. This property was purchased through that legal entity. Up until recently, you and your child were listed as the primary contingent beneficiaries.”
Evan looked at me, completely stunned. “You did that? You put us in a trust?”
“I did.”
