Chapter 6 - THE TRUSTEE WHO DISAPPEARED
Mom lowered the phone.
I stared at her.
“What did he mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Who was Dad's trustee?”
“Brock's father.”
“But he died.”
“I attended his funeral.”
“So did I.”
Mom's hands trembled.
Then Norville called again.
“I heard what Brock said.”
“You heard?”
“He was still on the line.”
Norville paused.
“Cassidy, come here immediately.”
We drove to his office.
Norville had already pulled the old trust documents.
He pointed to a clause.
“Your father's irrigation agreement wasn't assigned to Brock's father personally.”
I read it twice.
It named:
The Quinn Family Agricultural Trust.
“That's not a person.”
“No.”
“It's an entity.”
“Yes.”
“Who controls it?”
Norville turned the page.
“Your father's amendment says control transfers to the surviving adult child of the Quinn family.”
I knew immediately.
“Brock.”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“He became trustee when his father died.”
Norville nodded.
“And he's been trustee ever since.”
“So he knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Yes.”
“Why hide that?”
“Because a trustee has duties.”
“And he was trying to benefit himself.”
“Exactly.”
Suddenly the entire scheme made sense.
Brock wasn't simply trying to move irrigation rights.
He was supposed to protect them.
Instead, he was using his position to transfer them to his own company.
And he had been pressuring me to sign because my consent would erase the conflict.
But Norville wasn't finished.
“There is one more clause.”
He handed me the original.
“If any trustee attempts to transfer protected water rights for personal benefit, the remainder owners can petition to remove the trustee.”
I looked at Mom.
“Then Brock can be removed.”
“Yes.”
“But we need proof.”
Norville nodded.
“We have enough to begin.”
Then Travis entered.
He looked exhausted.
“I found something.”
He placed a small flash drive on the desk.
“Brock's office.”
I looked at him.
“How did you get this?”
“I went there.”
“Why?”
“To see whether he had copies of the forged documents.”
He opened the files.
There were emails.
Draft agreements.
Bank transfers.
And a spreadsheet labeled:
PROJECT WATERFALL.
The final column listed projected profits.
$4.8 million.
I stared.
The family was being offered twenty-two thousand.
Brock expected nearly five million.
Then I saw another line.
Cassidy resistance probability — 72%.
I almost laughed.
“They had a spreadsheet about me.”
Travis looked ashamed.
“They planned for you.”
I clicked the next file.
It was a photograph of me in uniform.
Taken outside my base.
Another showed my house.
Another showed my car.
I felt cold.
“They were monitoring me.”
Travis nodded.
“Brock wanted to know when you would be home.”
“Why?”
“He wanted the papers delivered when you were alone.”
That explained the envelope Travis had brought.
I looked at him.
“Was that why you were waiting in my kitchen?”
He nodded.
“Brock told me to convince you.”
“And if I refused?”
“I don't know.”
“You do know.”
He looked away.
“He said Darcy would handle it.”
I closed my eyes.
Darcy had shoved me once.
What would she have done next?
Then another file appeared.
A document titled:
ALTERNATIVE SIGNATURE PROCEDURE.
Mara's name wasn't there.
Norville's.
It was prepared by a private notary.
The plan was to certify that my refusal constituted abandonment of my remainder interest.
Impossible.
But designed to intimidate.
I looked at Norville.
“Would that work?”
“No.”
“Then why create it?”
“To make you think it would.”
The manipulation was deliberate.
Not random.
Not emotional.
Planned.
Then the office door opened.
Darcy walked in.
She looked terrible.
No makeup.
Eyes swollen.
She carried the silver Quinn Farms pen.
The same one she had shoved into my hand at the reunion.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
I didn't invite her to sit.
She didn't ask.
“I knew the signature plan was fake.”
My anger rose.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you help them?”
“Because Brock told me our farm would collapse.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“I thought I was saving our family.”
“You were saving your marriage.”
She flinched.
“Yes.”
Then she placed the silver pen on the table.
“I found this in Brock's office.”
I recognized it.
It wasn't just a pen.
It had a hidden compartment in the cap.
Inside was a tiny folded paper.
Norville opened it.
A handwritten list.
Three names.
Brock.
Raymond Quinn.
And one more.
Travis Branvold.
My husband.
I stared at the name.
Travis looked at me.
“I can explain.”
May you like
But before he could, Norville read the final line.
If Cassidy refuses, use Travis.
