Grieving Bride Uncovers Her Missing Sister at a $45 Million Newport Wedding, Facing Her Hostile Stepson's Vicious Smear Campaign and a Terrifying Gothic Curse That Refuses to Die
The revelation from Great-Aunt Beatrix churned in my stomach, a horrifying mix of ancient curses and modern greed. Lily wasn’t just a missing person; she was a captive, a sacrifice in a dark, supernatural game orchestrated by Ethan to protect his $45 million. I had to prove it, not just to myself, but to the world.
“I need legal proof,” I told Beatrix, my voice tight with resolve. “Something concrete, beyond ancient ledgers and family lore. Something that links Ethan to Lily’s disappearance, something official.”
Beatrix nodded slowly. “The deeds. The land transfers. The original Pemberton estate documents. They hold the true legal history, the hidden clauses.”
I left Beatrix’s estate, the weight of her words heavy on my shoulders, and immediately made an appointment with Attorney Robert Vance. He was the family lawyer, handling Julian’s vast real estate portfolio and, by extension, the Pemberton estate’s labyrinthine legal structure. He wouldn’t know the supernatural elements, but he would have access to the paperwork.
His office was on the top floor of a sleek, modern building in downtown Newport, a stark contrast to the gothic shadows of Aldercliff. The air conditioning hummed, a pleasant, artificial chill.
“Clara,” Vance said, a man in his late fifties with perfectly coiffed gray hair, greeting me with a practiced, neutral smile. “A surprise. I heard about the… unfortunate incident at the wedding.” His eyes held a flicker of something unreadable, likely prompted by Ethan’s smear campaign.
“I need to see the deeds for Aldercliff Manor,” I stated, cutting straight to the chase. “Specifically, any documents related to the estate’s original trust, its beneficiaries, and any changes made in the last decade and a half.”
Vance raised an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his gaze. “Those are highly confidential, Clara. And your access is limited, even as Julian’s wife, to specific, public-facing documents.”
“I have reason to believe there are discrepancies,” I pressed, trying to keep my voice calm. “Something vital has been overlooked, something that affects the very ownership of the property.”
He hesitated, then motioned to his paralegal, a young woman named Sarah, who had been quietly taking notes. “Sarah, pull up the Aldercliff estate files for Mrs. Higgins. Just the general trust agreements and recent amendments, of course.”
Sarah nodded, her fingers flying across her keyboard. She projected a complex web of legal documents onto a large screen in the office. Trust agreements, property surveys, tax records – a dizzying array of official papers.
“Here’s the master trust,” Sarah explained, pointing to a document. “And here are the beneficiaries. Julian, of course. And Ethan. Then a number of charities.”
My eyes scanned the list, searching for anything unusual. Nothing jumped out immediately.
“And all these amendments,” Vance said, indicating a long list of dates. “Ethan has been quite active in re-structuring certain aspects of the trust in recent years, streamlining things, as he puts it. Standard procedure for an heir preparing to take over.”
“Standard procedure,” I repeated, my gaze fixed on the screen. “And the full chain of ownership? From the very beginning?”
Sarah, eager to be helpful, clicked through several more screens. “Yes, all archived. The original land grant, the transfers, the probate documents from each generation.”
She scrolled past a flurry of older documents. “Oh, and here’s a curious one,” she mused, her finger hovering over a specific file. “A death certificate for a ‘Lily Higgins,’ dated five years ago. Filed directly by Ethan Pemberton’s legal team, strangely, considering she wasn’t part of the direct Pemberton lineage. It was sealed, of course, because of the… unusual circumstances surrounding her disappearance and the lack of a body.”
Vance’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. Sarah immediately went pale, her hand flying to her mouth. She had said too much. The information was supposed to be sealed, buried in the depths of probate.
A fraudulent death certificate. Filed by Ethan. Five years ago. This wasn’t just about inheritance; it was about identity theft, about making Lily disappear *officially*, rendering her legally dead, unable to claim anything, unable to be found. It was the concrete proof I needed, a clear act of criminal deception. Ethan hadn’t just bound Lily with a supernatural pact; he had erased her from the world in plain sight, ensuring his $45 million future.
The air in the office, despite the cool AC, suddenly felt suffocating.
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