12. Irrevocable #2
“Of course. Here you go,” Tobias said. “Thank you for fitting us in so quickly today.”
The young woman beamed under his attention, her professional demeanor faltering into a flustered smile. She scooped up the slick plastic cards. She held them up to the overhead glare to check the holograms.
“And the co-trustee’s ID?” she asked, looking toward Lavinia.
Lavinia slid her card forward, her own expression a mask of polite tragedy.
The notary compared the printed names against the typed text of the trust documents sitting in front of Helen. Satisfied, she clicked her pen open.
“Not a problem, Mr. Stanton,” the notary said. “I’ll just record these numbers in the ledger, and we can move to the signatures.”
She jotted the information down, then closed her ledger. The thick cover hit the table with a dull thud. She aligned the edges of the trust documents, squaring the corners against her palms.
Pushing the heavy stack across the table, she brought the pages to rest directly in front of me. She uncapped a gold-plated fountain pen.
“I’ve flagged all the signature lines with these yellow tabs,” the notary said. She held the pen out, offering it barrel-first. “We need ink on all three copies.”
I did not take it immediately. I stared at the yellow tabs marking the pages.
Tobias leaned closer. He placed his hand over mine on the armrest. His palm felt damp against my knuckles.
“Take your time, Cecilia,” Tobias whispered.
I withdrew my hand from his grip and reached for the pen. The metal barrel held a distinct, cold weight against my bare fingers. Dragging the stack of paper closer to the edge of the table, I positioned the nib directly over the first line.
I let the tip of the pen waver above the document. I let my hand shake just enough to sell the illusion of fear. I looked up at Tobias, and then at Lavinia, widening my eyes to ensure they both saw it.
“I feel better already,” I said, letting my voice break into a frail whisper. I turned my attention to the head of the table. “Thank you, Helen. Thank you for doing this.”
Helen sat rigid in her seat. Her expression was severe and unyielding. She stared at the pen trembling in my hand. I knew exactly what she saw: a traumatized, irrational woman destroying her own safety net.
If I tell her the truth, she will freeze the accounts today.
“It is my job to execute your wishes, Cecilia,” Helen said. The severe edge of her tone offered zero comfort. “Even when I personally advise against them.”
I looked back down at the yellow tab. I pressed the nib to the paper.
The black ink bled into the thick fibers.
My hand dragged across the line, leaving a stark, permanent trail behind it.
I flipped to the second page and repeated the motion.
With every loop of my signature, I gave my husband the money he needed to get rid of me.
I was legally handing them a loaded weapon. I watched the wet ink catch the glare of the overhead lights. I completed the final signature on the third page and set the pen down.
The gold casing clicked against the wood. The notary leaned over the table, checking the pages for completion.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stanton,” the notary said. She slid the paperwork toward the empty space in front of my husband. “Mr. Stanton, if you could sign right here.”
Tobias reached across the polished mahogany and picked up the gold-plated fountain pen, his fingers brushing against my knuckles. A damp, unwelcome heat lingered on my skin. He pulled the thick stack of documents closer to his side of the table.
“Do I need to date the bottom line as well?” Tobias asked. He offered the young woman across the table a brilliant, practiced smile.
“Just the signature, Mr. Stanton,” the notary said. She tapped her black ledger. “I handle the dates on my end.”
“What about the secondary addendums?” Tobias asked. “Do those require initials?”
Helen Caldwell met his gaze. “Only the primary transfer clause requires your ink, Tobias. The rest is standard boilerplate.”
Tobias gripped the pen. The heavy barrel caught the harsh light. He pressed the nib to the thick paper. He signed the three marked pages. I stared at the wet ink forming his name.
He thinks he just won. He sat there in his tailored suit. He thought he had outsmarted my father’s lawyers. He had no idea what he had really signed.
Tobias passed the gold pen to Lavinia. My mother accepted it without hesitation. She did not bother to read the paragraphs above the signature line. She simply dragged the nib across the paper, looping her cursive over it.
“There,” Lavinia said. She laid the pen aside. “All finished. Helen, we will need copies sent to the estate by tomorrow morning.”
“My assistant will courier them,” Helen replied. Her voice remained devoid of warmth.
The notary collected the three copies and picked up the heavy brass stamp. She pressed the metal die onto the bottom corner of each page, driving the seal into the thick paper with a heavy, final thud.
I flinched at the sound. I drew my shoulders inward, making myself look small and afraid. Underneath the oversized cashmere coat, I kept my core locked. The trap was set. They had their motive.
“That’s everything,” the notary said. She tucked the ledger back under her arm. “These are officially notarized and legally binding as of this moment.”
Tobias pushed his leather chair back. The casters dragged against the carpet. He stood up and turned, looming beside me.
“Thank you,” Tobias said. He rested a hand on my shoulder, his thumb pressing into my collarbone. “Cecilia, sweetheart, let’s get you home. You’ve had a very long day.”
Lavinia stood and gathered her handbag. “Yes, let’s go. It’s time to focus on the future.”
I pushed myself up from the leather armrests, transferring my balance to brace against the edge of the table. I looked past Tobias. Bastien stood silent by the closed door, his dark suit blending into the shadows of the room. I caught his gaze.
I walked out of the law firm between my husband and my mother. The paperwork was signed, the bait was laid, and my baby was almost due.