Chapter 4 - Miles Called the Will a ForgeryMiles arrived at Rebecca’s attorney’s office the next morning with two partners from his firm.
Rebecca brought Bethany Cross, an estate litigator recommended by a friend.
Priscilla did not attend.
She was still recovering.
Ethan stayed with Rebecca’s neighbor and closest friend, Leah Warren.
Rebecca wanted him nowhere near the adults arguing over Harold’s money.
Miles sat across the table.
Silver-haired.
Expensive navy suit.
Controlled smile.
He had known Rebecca since she was eleven.
He attended graduations.
Nora? Different story. No.
He had spoken at Harold’s funeral.
He called Rebecca “Becca” when trying to sound paternal.
She hated it now.
“I’m relieved you agreed to meet.”
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
Miles glanced at Bethany.
“Outside counsel was unnecessary.”
Bethany smiled.
“That usually means I was necessary.”
Miles ignored her.
Rebecca placed a photocopy of the second will on the table.
“What is this?”
Miles looked at it briefly.
Then leaned back.
“A fabrication.”
“You didn’t read it.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
Rebecca froze.
Bethany noticed.
“When?”
Miles corrected immediately.
“I’ve seen a version.”
“From whom?”
“Your father.”
Rebecca stared.
“So Dad did create another will.”
“A draft.”
“Signed.”
“He signed many working documents during his decline.”
Bethany leaned forward.
“Working drafts are generally not witnessed and notarized.”
Miles’s jaw tightened.
“The witnessing process is questionable.”
“Why?”
“One witness was a hospice nurse who had no business participating in estate planning.”
“Who was the other?”
“A former accountant.”
“Alive?”
Miles hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Then we can ask.”
Rebecca watched him.
“You probated the January 8 will.”
“Correct.”
“Why didn’t you tell us a January 26 document existed?”
“Because I did not consider it valid.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“As executor, I had responsibilities.”
“As Dad’s lawyer, you had responsibilities too.”
Miles looked offended.
“I served your father faithfully for almost three decades.”
“Then why did he order an audit of everything you touched?”
Silence.
One of Miles’s partners shifted.
Apparently he had not expected Rebecca to say that so directly.
Miles smiled thinly.
“Your father became suspicious near the end.”
“Of you.”
“Of everyone.”
“Why?”
“Medication. Pain. Fear.”
Rebecca’s hands tightened.
“You’re saying he was incompetent.”
“I’m saying capacity fluctuated.”
Bethany interrupted.
“Do you have a physician’s declaration of incapacity from January 26?”
“No.”
“Neuropsychological assessment?”
“No.”
“Any clinical record stating he lacked testamentary capacity that date?”
Miles’s smile disappeared.
“No.”
“Then your characterization is not evidence.”
Miles turned to Rebecca.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
“What?”
“Priscilla pulling you into her crisis.”
Rebecca stared.
“My sister was drugged yesterday.”
“Allegedly.”
“The hospital found a sedating substance.”
“Priscilla has taken medications before.”
Bethany’s eyes sharpened.
Rebecca’s stomach turned.
Priscilla had struggled with prescription misuse in her twenties after spinal surgery.
She had been sober for seven years.
Few people knew.
Miles knew.
He had helped Harold arrange treatment.
“You’re using something from thirteen years ago.”
“I’m giving context.”
“No.”
Rebecca’s voice hardened.
“You’re trying to make her look unreliable before we talk about the papers.”
Miles leaned back.
“Did Priscilla tell you she contacted me about this supposed will months ago?”
Rebecca looked at him.
“No.”
Of course she hadn’t.
Miles continued.
“She came to my office six months after Harold died.”
“Why?”
“She said she had reason to believe he created another document.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That if she had evidence, she should provide it.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask your sister.”
Rebecca hated that he was right.
Priscilla had secrets.
Miles did too.
Bethany asked:
“Did you employ Gavin Shore yesterday?”
Miles’s face did not move.
“Gavin performs investigative services.”
“Did he meet Priscilla at Fairfield National?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s an interesting answer.”
“I don’t micromanage contractors.”
“Did you know she was accessing a safe-deposit box?”
“No.”
Rebecca watched him.
Lie.
She couldn’t prove it yet.
Miles continued.
“Rebecca, there’s something you need to understand about Harold’s final months.”
She waited.
“He was convinced people were stealing.”
“Were they?”
“No.”
“Then an audit should have cleared you.”
Miles’s eyes hardened.
“An audit would have damaged the company and exposed confidential transactions unrelated to wrongdoing.”
“What transactions?”
“Settlements.”
“Whose?”
“Your father’s.”
“Then show me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Privilege.”
Harold was dead.
The estate was active.
Yet Miles was still using privilege like a locked door.
Bethany slid another page across the table.
A preliminary trust statement.
“Let’s discuss Ethan.”
Miles looked down.
Rebecca did too.
Bethany had obtained it overnight from the institutional custodian.
Ethan’s trust began with approximately $6.8 million in assets after Harold transferred shares and securities over ten years.
Current reported value:
$4.1 million.
Rebecca stared.
She had never seen the starting value.
“What happened to almost three million dollars?”
Miles said:
“Market movement.”
Bethany shook her head.
“Not primarily.”
She highlighted a column.
Management fees.
Advisory fees.
Private placement losses.
Related-party loans.
More than $1.3 million flowed through entities connected to Carrow Fiduciary Services.
Miles’s face became still.
Rebecca felt sick.
“You charged my ten-year-old son over a million dollars?”
“That is a dishonest characterization.”
“Then give me an honest one.”
“The trust invested in vehicles available to qualified family accounts.”
“Vehicles you managed.”
“Some.”
“Did Dad know?”
“Yes.”
Bethany tapped Article Nine of the second will.
“Then why order an audit?”
Miles looked at her.
“We’re assuming the document is real.”
Rebecca stood.
“No.”
She stared at him.
“We’re going to find out.”
Miles collected his papers.
At the door he turned.
“Rebecca.”
“What?”
“If you challenge the probated will, distributions freeze.”
“I know.”
“The company could be harmed.”
“Then help authenticate the second will.”
“I’m advising you as someone who cares about your family.”
She laughed.
“No.”
He waited.
Rebecca’s voice became quiet.
“You’re advising me as the man Dad tried to remove.”
Miles left.
Bethany exhaled.
“He’s scared.”
Rebecca sat.
“So am I.”
“Good.”
Rebecca looked up.
Bethany clarified.
“Fear keeps you from making this only about anger.”
Her phone buzzed.
Priscilla.
Rebecca answered.
“What?”
“I remembered something.”
Rebecca stood.
“From yesterday?”
“No.”
“From Dad’s last call.”
Priscilla’s voice shook.
“He gave me a name.”
“What name?”
“I didn’t understand it then.”
Rebecca waited.
“Eleanor Fitch.”
Bethany looked up sharply.
Rebecca asked:
“Who is that?”
Priscilla whispered:
“Dad said if Miles denied the second will, find Eleanor.”
Bethany’s face changed.
“I know that name.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Who?”
May you like
Bethany answered:
“Eleanor Fitch was the probate judge who sanctioned Miles Carrow fourteen years ago.”
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