Trapped in a Recording Studio by Her Late Superstar Husband's Adult Stepdaughter and Family to Surrender $120M Catalog Rights, a Caretaking Manager Discovers Fate and Secrets Change Everything
The tension in the room thickened, transforming from hostile anger to a palpable curiosity. The faint outline of the floor vault beneath the worn carpet seemed to hum with unspoken secrets.
Chloe looked from the vault to Nana Maeve, then to me, suspicion still etched on her face. “What is that, Nana?” she demanded. “And what does it have to do with anything?”
Nana Maeve simply smiled, a small, enigmatic curve of her lips. “Patience, child. All in good time.”
Attorney Ellsworth stepped forward. He knelt slowly, carefully, his movements precise. He pushed aside the thin, industrial carpet, revealing a solid steel plate, dark with age. In its center, a small, intricate keyhole was visible.
“Maya requested this vault be opened,” Ellsworth stated, looking up at the assembled family. “In front of everyone.”
My breath hitched. I hadn’t explicitly *requested* it, but Nana Maeve’s arrival with the key had made the implication clear. I nodded, confirming his words. “Yes. Whatever secrets are in there, they need to come out now. All of them.”
Chloe scoffed. “More of Maya’s tricks, I’m sure.”
“Just open it, Mr. Ellsworth,” Uncle Marcus interjected, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He loved a good mystery, especially if it involved money.
Ellsworth inserted the brass key into the lock. It slid in smoothly, a testament to its careful maintenance despite its age. He turned it slowly. A soft, metallic click echoed in the suddenly silent room.
He grasped the two small handles on the steel plate and lifted. The plate rose with a soft hiss of displaced air, revealing a dark, cool chamber beneath.
Inside, nestled on a shelf lined with faded velvet, were several sealed, heavy-duty archive boxes. One, made of fire-resistant metal, was clearly labeled with Julian Montgomery’s name and a date: “OCTOBER 15, 2019.”
Ellsworth carefully retrieved the metal box. He placed it on the mahogany table where Chloe’s predatory contract still lay, a stark contrast to the ancient container. He undid the latches and lifted the lid.
Inside were neatly stacked legal documents, bound with official-looking red tape. Ellsworth picked up the top document, a thick deed with a distinctive embossed seal. He cleared his throat.
“These are the corporate deeds,” Ellsworth announced, his voice steady. “For ‘Montgomery Music Holdings LLC’.”
A murmur rippled through the assembled relatives. Everyone knew that LLC was the entity that owned Julian’s entire $120 million publishing catalog.
Ellsworth flipped open the deed, his finger tracing a line. “Dated October 15, 2019. It states that, as of this date, Julian Montgomery transferred 100% of the ownership of Montgomery Music Holdings LLC directly to… Maya Montgomery.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and definitive. Chloe’s jaw dropped. Uncle Marcus’s eyes widened. The other relatives gasped.
My own eyes went to the signature, Julian’s bold, familiar script. It was undeniable. Three years ago, Julian had made me the sole owner of his entire catalog. Not a portion, not a trust, but 100%.
The room erupted.
“What?” Chloe shrieked, her face turning ashen. “That’s impossible! My father would never—”
“It’s here, in black and white,” Ellsworth stated, holding the document up for her to see the seal. “Signed and notarized by the state of California.”
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