Chapter 4 - Grandpa’s house
The house.
Grandpa’s red-brick home in Oak Park had been in our family for decades.
Richard moved into it six months after the funeral.
Then sold it two years later.
At least that was what I had been told.
I looked at Susan.
“What about the house?”
Richard grabbed her wrist.
“We’re leaving.”
I stepped between them.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
The little adopted girl he had intimidated no longer existed.
The Army had not made me fearless.
It had taught me what to do while afraid.
“Take your hand off her.”
Richard did.
Michael asked security to escort them from the restricted office area.
Before leaving, Richard pointed at me.
“You start digging into this and you’ll destroy this family.”
I almost smiled.
“You spent years telling me I wasn’t part of it.”
He had no answer.
After they left, Michael contacted the bank’s legal department.
Within forty minutes, two trust officers joined us.
The picture became clearer.
Grandpa had established the Robert Donovan Legacy Trust.
Its primary beneficiary was me.
Not Richard.
Not Susan.
Me.
The trust included cash.
Securities.
Real estate.
A minority interest in Donovan Industrial Supply, a company I thought Grandpa had sold years before his death.
And the Oak Park house.
“How did Richard sell it?”
Trust officer Janet Cole shook her head.
“According to our records, he didn’t.”
“What?”
“The property is still held through an entity controlled by the trust.”
I stared at her.
“Then who lives there?”
She typed.
The current occupant was listed as a corporate tenant.
Donovan Residential Holdings.
Managing director:
Richard Donovan.
He had not sold Grandpa’s house.
He had transferred occupancy through another company and told me it was gone.
Why?
Then Janet showed me rental distributions.
Money had been flowing from the property.
Where?
Into accounts I supposedly authorized.
Again, signatures bearing my name.
Again, dates when I had been overseas.
My anger became colder.
Forgery.
Potentially years of it.
Then Michael found something else.
A scanned letter from Grandpa.
Release only upon Emily Donovan’s verified personal appearance.
I stopped breathing.
“Can I read it?”
He hesitated.
Then printed it.
The first line broke me.
Emily,
If you are reading this, then you finally came to the bank yourself.
I pressed my fingers against my mouth.
Grandpa had expected this.
The letter continued.
Do not blame yourself for how long it took.
If Richard told you that you received only one thousand dollars, then I was right to take precautions.
I closed my eyes.
Grandpa knew his son.
Maybe better than I ever had.
Then came the final line on the first page.
The money is important, but it is not the reason I created this trust.
There is something Richard has been trying to obtain since you were sixteen.
My stomach dropped.
Sixteen?
May you like
I had not even been legally adopted until I was eleven.
What could Richard possibly have wanted from me before Grandpa died?
