Chapter 3 - The Paper Trail
The silence inside the entryway of the suburban home felt like a glass pane stretched to the point of shattering.
Melissa looked as if she were about to faint. Her skin had lost every drop of color, and her eyes darted between the badge on Detective Kim’s belt and her husband’s stiff, rigid posture.
“I—I just assumed,” Melissa stammered, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Our kitchen fridge was packed with beer and soda for the guests. Evan always puts overflow food in the secondary fridge downstairs or in the garage. It was just a guess!”
“A very convenient guess,” Detective Kim remarked smoothly. She motioned to the officer behind her. “Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Bennett, we have a warrant signed by Judge Vance to search the premises, including the detached garage, the detached workshop, and all personal digital devices. Officers Miller and Davis will escort you to the living room while we conduct our search.”
“A warrant?” Evan shouted, his arrogance flaring up again as fear turned into rage. “On what grounds? My sister got a scratch on her face! It was an accident! You’re treating me like a damn terrorist over a birthday dessert!”
“Your sister didn’t just get a scratch, Mr. Bennett,” Kim said, her tone razor-sharp. “Three surgical fragments were extracted from her cheek last night. Two more are currently resting less than four millimeters from her facial nerve. If the doctor pulls them at the wrong angle, Rachel loses motor function on the left side of her face permanently. That isn't an accident. In the state of Missouri, that is aggravated first-degree assault with a deadly weapon. And depending on what we find, it might be attempted murder.”
Evan flinched as if he had been slapped. Miller and Davis guided him toward the leather sofa, while Detective Kim and a forensics technician headed through the kitchen door toward the garage.
Meanwhile, three miles away at St. Joseph Medical Center, Rachel sat upright in her hospital bed. Daniel sat in a plastic chair beside her, holding her cold hand. Half of her face was wrapped in sterile white gauze, taped tightly from her cheekbone down to her jawline. Every pulse of her heartbeat sent a throb of white-hot agony through her skull.
Her phone vibrated against the bedside table.
It was a text from an unknown number. Rachel picked it up with her free hand, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers.
The message contained a single image: a photograph of an open manila folder resting on what looked like an office desk. Inside the folder was an official document titled *Irrevocable Family Heritage Trust: Bennett Estate*.
Beneath the title, printed in bold red ink, was a formal amendment dated just three days ago:
*In the event of the untimely demise or permanent total incapacitation of Rachel Bennett, all remaining shares of the Grandview commercial property portfolio shall instantly forfeit to the co-beneficiary, Evan Bennett.*
May you like
Rachel stared at the screen, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t signed any amendment. She hadn't even spoken to their family attorney in six months.
“Daniel,” she whispered, her voice shaking so hard the word barely formed. “Look at this.”
