If you walk out of Apex Media to play live-in nurse to that washed-up recluse, you are dead to this family and blacklisted from Hollywood, my uncle Victor Cross told me five years ago.
The legal document arrived by messenger, hand-delivered to Eleanor’s bungalow the next morning. It was a thick stack of papers, emblazoned with court seals and official stamps. My heart sank before I even opened it.
Arthur Pendelton called moments after I had ripped open the envelope. His voice was grim.
“Leo, did you receive the papers? Victor just filed an emergency probate motion.”
“I have them,” I said, flipping through the pages. The legalese was dense, but one phrase jumped out: “Eleanor Westwood, deceased, suffered from severe and advanced dementia during her final years, rendering her mentally incompetent to manage her estate or make sound financial decisions.”
“He’s claiming Eleanor was mentally incompetent?” I gripped the phone tighter. “That’s a lie. She was sharp as a tack until the very end.”
“A convenient lie for him,” Arthur agreed, his voice laced with disgust. “The motion demands an immediate freeze of all estate assets and an injunction to surrender all physical items within the Pasadena bungalow.”
My blood ran cold. “All physical items? He’s trying to get his hands on the film canister.”
“Precisely,” Arthur confirmed. “He also filed a $2,000,000 slander lawsuit against Eleanor’s estate, claiming reputational damage. It’s a blatant attempt to seize control, discredit anything found, and make it prohibitively expensive to fight.”
“He suspects,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “He must have heard something. Maybe from my mother, after I showed up at Apex. Or maybe he just always knew how dangerous that house was.”
“Victor is a cornered animal, Leo,” Arthur warned. “He smells blood. He knows there’s something in that house, something valuable enough for you to be fighting for. He doesn’t know what, but he’s throwing everything he has at it to stop you.”
The court date for the emergency motion was set for next week. Victor wanted the bungalow cleared, the contents inventoried and sealed, before anyone could authenticate or even physically access the deed again. He was terrified. And he was willing to spend $2,000,000 just to keep a secret buried.
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