Chapter 3 - The Mercer Family Trust
My mother had created the trust.
Not recently.
Twelve years earlier.
The Mercer Family Legacy Trust.
I had heard the name once after my grandmother’s funeral and forgotten it almost immediately because I had been told it contained sentimental property.
Family jewelry.
Old photographs.
A few investments.
Nothing significant.
I was wrong.
Claire obtained the trust certificate before sunset.
Original trustees:
My parents, Robert and Elaine Mercer.
Successor beneficiaries:
Jenna and me.
But that still didn’t explain why anyone believed the trust controlled my cottage.
Then Samantha Price, my attorney, arrived from Los Angeles.
She read the loan filing twice.
“This document says the Malibu property was purchased using trust distributions.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I represented you at closing.”
Exactly.
I had transferred the down payment directly from my investment account.
The account contained my surgical income and proceeds from selling the townhouse I owned before marriage.
Every cent was traceable.
Then Samantha found something else.
The loan application included an alleged trust resolution.
It stated that the trust reimbursed me $470,000 for the original purchase.
Therefore, according to the resolution, the cottage belonged partially to the family trust.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
Forged again.
Dad stared.
“I’ve never seen this.”
Mom still said nothing.
I turned toward her.
“Did you?”
Elaine finally looked up.
“You were never supposed to sell the house.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Your grandmother wanted a place where the family could gather.”
“She never owned this cottage.”
“No. But she wanted—”
“So you manufactured paperwork?”
Mom’s expression hardened.
“I preserved what should have remained in this family.”
Mark whispered:
“Elaine…”
Jenna spun toward him.
“Stop acting surprised.”
My head snapped toward her.
He knew.
At least part of it.
Then Dad stood.
“Elaine, tell me you didn’t use the trust.”
Mom’s face changed.
Not guilt.
Anger.
“You let him buy this place after his divorce when Jenna was drowning.”
“What does that mean?”
She pointed at me.
“Daryl has always landed on his feet. Medical school. Surgery. Investments. Beautiful children.”
Then at Jenna.
“She had twins, a husband whose business collapsed, and bills nobody cared about.”
Mark’s face flushed.
Mom continued.
“So yes. I helped her.”
“How much?”
Nobody answered.
Samantha did.
“The trust statements just came through.”
We all looked at her.
She turned her tablet toward us.
Over six years, my parents had transferred nearly $820,000 from the trust.
Most went to companies associated with Mark.
Some went directly to Jenna.
One payment stood out.
$470,000.
Exactly the amount used to fabricate the story that the trust had reimbursed me.
Except the money never came to me.
It went to a corporation called Pacific Meridian Holdings.
“Whose company is that?” I asked.
Mark went pale.
Jenna sat down.
Dad whispered:
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Samantha searched quickly.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“Pacific Meridian Holdings bought something eleven months ago.”
“What?”
She looked through the open doors toward the Pacific.
“The parcel directly behind your cottage.”
I frowned.
There was no visible parcel.
Only bluff.
Ocean.
Access road.
Then she enlarged the county map.
A narrow undeveloped strip ran behind six beachfront homes.
Including mine.
“Why would Jenna and Mark buy that?”
Samantha’s expression changed.
“Because the county approved preliminary plans last month for a private access road.”
Claire understood first.
“If they control that strip…”
“They control future vehicle access to several properties.”
Including mine.
My cottage’s value could collapse.
Or explode.
Depending on who controlled the easement.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
DON’T SELL UNTIL YOU FIND OUT WHAT MARK PROMISED THE DEVELOPER.
Attached was a photograph.
Mark.
My father.
And a man I recognized from local business news.
Billionaire coastal developer Victor Hale.
May you like
Standing together outside my cottage.
Taken two weeks earlier.
