Boston Mother Cancels Twenty Two Million Dollar Wedding Gift After Morning Betrayal
“Then we will alter them,” I said. “I want the new documents ready for my signature on Monday afternoon at five.”
“That is a very tight timeline,” Avery said. “Redrafting an estate of this size normally takes weeks.”
“We do not have weeks,” I said, looking at the grandfather clock in the corner.
The doorbell rang at seven, the sound sharp in the quiet house. Avery left the room and returned a moment later with a young man wearing a dark gray overcoat.
“Beatrice, this is Mr. Craig Vance,” Avery said. “He specializes in digital forensic analysis.”
Mr. Vance carried a black leather utility case, which he placed on the edge of the mahogany desk. I felt a sharp tightening in my throat, the weight of my private humiliation pressing down on me.
To find the truth, I would have to share the details of last night with an absolute stranger. “Mr. Vance comes highly recommended, Beatrice,” Avery said, cleaning his glasses again. “We can trace every single digit of that entry code, Beatrice.”
“How far back do your logs go?” Mr. Vance asked, his voice entirely professional.
