The beneficiary would receive control upon turning thirty.
I was twenty-nine when everything started.
By the time the investigation ended—
I had turned thirty.
Rachel smiled.
“Thomas, the trust is yours.”
I could barely speak.
“How much?”
She slid a document toward me.
I looked at the number.
Then looked again.
$412,000.
I laughed.
Not because the money was funny.
Because suddenly I remembered Karen sitting at my dinner table.
Laughing with Mia.
Telling me I already had more than I needed.
She had spent years stealing from Dad.
Tried using my identity.
Tried destroying my reputation.
Nearly convinced my entire family to abandon me.
All because she was terrified I might interfere with the money she planned to steal.
And the entire time, hidden in an account none of us knew existed, was something my mother had left for me.
Not merely money.
A final act of protection.
A future.
