Before His Father Finished Speaking, the Heir Accused the Trustee

Chapter One

The sudden silence allowed Adrian to hear his own breathing clearly. He could feel the dry pull in the back of his throat, and to his chagrin, Helena was obviously aware of his tightness.

“I was going to the morning room to get Celia’s shawl,” he broke the silence. “The patio door was open and Helena was standing in front of the display table.”

“I’m just checking the documents.” Helena’s expression remained unchanged.

Charles didn’t look at her. “Let him finish.”

Adrian stared at her and continued, “She had two envelopes in her hands. One was the official one and the other was her own. I saw her pull out the signed agreement from the envelope Margot had left on the table and stuff the other document inside. She then sealed the second envelope and took it out.”

Helena tilted her head slightly. “All you see is paper.”

“I saw the signature page.”

“From a distance of fifteen feet, you just saw something that 'looked like' a signature page.”

“I saw my father’s initials in blue ink.”

Charles' eyes fell on the envelope on his desk. That afternoon he had signed every page of the inheritance agreement. Adrian was sure of this, for his father had complained bitterly about the pen Helena had forced him to use.

Celia stood so close that her bare arms almost touched Adrian’s sleeves. “Then why didn’t you point it out right away?”

Adrian glanced at her. The question was sharp, but it really hit home.

“I followed Helena out,” he confessed. “I wanted to make sure. She walked into the hallway to the bathroom and came back with only an envelope in her hand. Then my dad started to give his speech.”

“So you endured the six-minute speech before you had an attack.” There was no emotion in Charles' tone.

“Because I thought maybe I was wrong.”

Helena let out a very soft sigh. “You did see it wrong.”

Adrian turned to her sharply: “Then it was outside just now, why did you stop everyone from opening it?”

“Because it would be an irreversible disaster to disgrace this family in front of two hundred guests.”

“The civet cat exchanges for the prince, and the secret exchange of legal documents is also an irreversible disaster!”

“Adrian,” Charles warned in a deep voice.

The warning tone was all too familiar. Its subtext is: Don’t make me deal with you first while I deal with the really important things. Adrian shut his mouth.

Charles turned to Helena. “What’s in the envelope?”

“A revised executive copy.”

“Who revised it?”

“Me.”

“Who gave you the authorization?”

Helena’s mouth tightened. “You.”

Charles stared at her.

“No, I didn’t,” he said every word.

Helena glanced at the closed door, as if to confirm the absolute privacy of the room. “It was you who asked me to modify the terms of the survivor settings.”

“I’m asking you to prepare a few 'alternative plans'.”

“Your original statement was that the existing structure would put the estate at risk.”

“I also said that we will discuss this matter on Monday.”

“You also said that once the news of the engagement is announced, any delay would be unwise.”

“But I never authorized you to make a 'replacement'.”

The word “replacement” changes the air density in the room.

This is not a misunderstanding. It’s not an administrative error. It was not a nervous young man who misjudged the routine of a senior consultant.

Celia stepped away from Adrian and looked directly at Helena. “What exactly did you change?”

Helena looked back at her with an irritating coolness. “This has nothing to do with you at the moment.”

“If my engagement is a reason for you to tamper with documents, that concerns me.”

“It’s about your future, so it needs to be discussed with extreme caution.”

Charles reached out for the envelope. Just a moment before he touched her, Helena moved. The movement is not big, just half a step. But enough is enough. Charles' hand hovered in the air.

“What did you put in there?” he asked sharply.

Helena’s expression regained some of its usual dignity. “A document that protects an estate from unwanted transfer of assets.”

“Transferred to whom?”

No one answered. Adrian felt Celia stiffen beside him.

Charles lowered his gaze and studied the seal. He turned the envelope over and examined the raised crown relief. “This is not our family’s fire seal.”

“No,” Helena admitted.

“Whose is that?”

“Mine.”

Charles looked up. For years, Helena had used the family crest of Ward Trust Partners on her personal letterhead, even though that firm had long since been absorbed into a larger trust. The crown and laurels once belonged to her grandfather, a probate judge in New Haven, and his portrait still hangs in a courthouse conference room.

Charles pinched the envelope.

“We’ll take it apart now.”

A crack finally cracks in Helena’s disguise, revealing the underlying fear.

“If you take it apart without an attorney present, it could significantly damage your position.”

“What position?”

“A position in a legal dispute that you’re not even aware of yet.”

Charles broke the seal without hesitation. The voice is very soft. Adrian expected to see something dramatic—a hidden amendment, a forged conveyance, or ruthless terms that would see him out. Instead, Charles simply pulled out a twelve-page document pinned to the top with a paper clip and read the title page with a blank expression.

Celia moved closer. Adrian couldn’t read the words clearly. Charles turned to page two. Then the third page.

“What on earth is that?” Adrian couldn’t help but ask.

Charles turned a deaf ear. Helena closed her eyes in pain.

Charles finally looked up at her. “You transferred voting control of Vale Shipping Holdings to the trust.”

“I’m here to preserve it.”

“You put my controlling shares into an irrevocable management structure.”

“The trust originally held a residual interest.”

“That was after I died!”

“Your recent series of decisions have created an imminent crisis.”

“You mean my decision to approve Adrian’s marital property agreement?”

“I’m referring to your decision to tie the entire estate to the potential debt of the Markham family.”

The color drained from Celia’s face. “My family has nothing against Vale shipping!”

“There is indeed none today,” Helena said tit-for-tat, “But that is different from 'no risk exposure'.”

Charles slammed the papers onto the table. “This has my signature on it.”

Adrian leaned forward sharply. At the bottom of the page, Charles' name appears in a firm line of blue ink. Charles tapped the signature lightly with his index finger.

“I never signed this document.”

The whole audience could hear the needle drop. He turned to another page. The blue initials stand out, with a familiar tilt. Familiar enough to silence any doubts. Celia looked at Adrian. Before she spoke, he had read the question in her eyes.

“You said you saw her replace the signed agreement,” she asked shakily, “Did you see her sign anything?”

“No.”

“Did anyone see that?”

Helena’s eyes drifted to him. Adrian hated the look of relief in her eyes. Charles picked up his phone and dialed a number.

“Daniel,” he ordered as soon as the call came through, “come to the library right now. Now.”

He hung up without waiting for the other party to respond. Daniel Price, Charles' personal lawyer, also attended the dinner tonight with his husband, and is probably still pretending to study a dessert plate on the terrace. Less than two minutes later, he pushed open the door and walked in. As soon as he saw the documents on the table, he immediately closed the door and loosened his tie.