Chapter 4 - The Demolition of the Heirs
At 9:45 a.m. on Monday, the probate courtroom of Westbridge County was cold, silent, and bathed in the dim, amber light of the high stained-glass windows.
Owen sat at the plaintiff's table, looking immaculate in a tailored dark blue suit, his hair perfectly coiffed. Beside him sat Lindsay, wearing a sharp, white double-breasted blazer and a matching pleated skirt, her hand resting proudly on her stomach. Her designer handbag sat on the polished bench beside her, a quiet statement of the wealth she believed she was about to inherit.
When I walked into the room, dressed in a stunning, cream silk evening gown and a matching cape—a deliberate, elegant echo of the woman I used to be before Owen tried to shrink me—Owen didn't even stand up. He simply looked at me with a smirk of profound, patronizing pity.
"You shouldn't have come, Clara," he whispered as I walked past his table to sit beside Martin Wells. "This is private family business. The divorce is already being processed. You’re just embarrassing yourself."
Lindsay offered a soft, mocking smile, her fingers twisting the gold band on her finger. "We just want this handled cleanly, Clara. There’s no need to make a scene in front of the judge."
I didn't answer them. I sat down, smoothing the silk of my gown, my eyes fixed on the empty judge’s bench.
At exactly 10:00 a.m., the bailiff called the court to order, and Judge Thomas stepped onto the dais. He was an elderly man with thick, wire-rimmed glasses and a reputation for absolute, unyielding adherence to the law.
"We are here today to finalize the probate of the estate of the late Beatrice Merritt," Judge Thomas announced, opening the heavy leather portfolio before him. "I have received the final will and testament, along with the certified codicil executed forty-eight hours prior to her passing."
Owen’s attorney stood up, offering a polite bow. "Your Honor, we represent the primary heirs of the Merritt estate. We have already prepared the corporate restructuring documents for Merritt Development, assuming a standard, equal distribution of the liquid assets among the grandchildren."
"Your assumption is incorrect, counselor," Judge Thomas said, his voice flat and cold. "The decedent did not authorize an equal distribution of the corporate shares."
The courtroom went entirely silent. Owen sat forward, his brow furrowing in sudden, sharp confusion. "What do you mean, Your Honor? I’m her only grandson. The company has always been my legacy."
Judge Thomas looked over his glasses, his eyes locking onto Owen with a look of profound disgust.
"According to the certified codicil of the trust, Beatrice Merritt transferred eighty-four percent of the voting shares of Merritt Development, along with the deed to the Silver Lake estate and all subsidiary corporate assets, to a single, individual beneficiary."
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The judge cleared his throat, his voice echoing clearly through the vaulted chamber.
"The beneficiary is Clara Merritt."
