Chapter Three: The Attorney at the Door
For the first time that day, Paige felt something stronger than grief.
It was not hope exactly.
Hope felt too soft for the moment.
This was something sharper. Something like air entering a room that had been sealed too long.
Samuel Hayes stepped inside the mansion beside her, closing his umbrella and handing it to a stunned maid near the door. The maid, Mrs. Bell, had worked for the Whitmore family since Paige was a child. Her eyes were red, and when she saw Samuel, relief crossed her face so quickly that Paige almost missed it.
“Mr. Hayes,” Mrs. Bell whispered.
Samuel gave her a brief nod.
“Please remain nearby.”
That single sentence made Vivian turn.
She had been standing in the living room with her back straight and chin lifted, pretending to be unaffected by Paige’s departure. But when she saw Samuel walking in, the confidence in her eyes flickered.
“Samuel,” Vivian said. “This is a private family matter.”
Samuel did not smile.
“As Jonathan Whitmore’s attorney, I am here because of a private family matter.”
The relatives began whispering.
Paige stood beside him, still clutching the edge of her dress. Her cheek throbbed. Her heart pounded.
Vivian’s gaze moved between Paige and the folder.
“I was not informed you were coming.”
“No,” Samuel said. “You were not.”
The answer was simple, but it struck the room like a warning.
Vivian’s lips tightened.
“I am grieving my husband. Whatever business you have can wait.”
“It cannot.”
Samuel walked to the center of the living room. Every eye followed him.
Paige remained by the entrance, unsure whether she was supposed to follow. Samuel glanced back at her.
“Miss Paige,” he said gently, “please stand with me.”
She did.
Vivian watched her with hatred burning beneath the surface.
Samuel placed the leather folder on a polished table.
“Jonathan Whitmore signed his final will six weeks before his passing,” he said.
A murmur moved through the room.
Vivian’s hand tightened around the stem of her wine glass.
“That is impossible,” she said. “Jonathan was ill. He was confused.”
Samuel looked at her.
“On the contrary. His physicians confirmed he was of sound mind. The signing was witnessed, recorded, and legally filed.”
Vivian’s face paled slightly.
Paige stared at Samuel.
Six weeks before his death.
Her father had known something.
Samuel opened the folder and removed a sealed packet.
“Mr. Whitmore instructed me to deliver this in person after his funeral, only when Miss Paige was present.”
Vivian took a step forward.
“I am his widow. I have a right to review all estate documents first.”
“No,” Samuel replied. “You do not.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Paige could hear the rain outside.
Samuel turned to her and held out the packet.
Her name was written across the front in her father’s handwriting.
To my Paige.
Her breath caught.
She took it with shaking hands.
For a moment, she could not open it. Seeing his handwriting felt like hearing his voice from another room.
Samuel spoke softly.
“Your father wanted you to read the first page aloud only if you felt strong enough. You do not have to.”
Paige swallowed.
Vivian laughed under her breath.
“This is absurd. She is a child.”
Paige looked up.
Something inside her steadied.
“I’m twenty years old,” she said. “And I am his daughter.”
Then she broke the seal.
The first page was a formal document, thick with legal language. Her eyes moved quickly, struggling to understand. Samuel leaned closer and pointed to the key section.
Paige read silently.
Then again.
Then she raised her eyes toward Vivian.
The room waited.
Paige’s voice was quiet at first, but it grew stronger with every word.
“I, Jonathan Edward Whitmore, being of sound mind, hereby name my daughter, Paige Evelyn Whitmore, as my sole heir to the Whitmore family mansion, its surrounding estate, and the majority shares of Whitmore Holdings.”
The room erupted in whispers.
Vivian stepped back as if struck.
“No,” she said.
Paige lowered the paper.
Samuel continued for her.
“Mrs. Whitmore, your late husband provided you with a separate financial settlement, conditional upon your cooperation with the execution of his will.”
Vivian’s face twisted.
“Conditional?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “And those conditions may already have been violated.”
The relatives looked at Vivian.
She forced a laugh.
“This is a misunderstanding. Jonathan loved me.”
Paige stared at the woman who had just slapped her.
Samuel lifted another envelope from the folder.
“He also loved the truth.”
Vivian’s smile vanished.
Samuel turned to Paige.
“Your father left more than property. He left a personal letter and evidence. He instructed that the evidence be opened if anyone attempted to remove you from the house before the will was read.”
Paige’s fingers went cold.
May you like
Vivian whispered, “Samuel, don’t.”
It was the first time Paige had ever heard Vivian beg.
