Chapter 7: The Solicitor's Office
The solicitor's name was Patricia Holt.
Her office was on the fourth floor of a quiet building in the city center, all pale wood and straight lines, nothing decorative except a framed quote on the wall behind her desk that Daniel didn't read.
She listened without interrupting.
He laid everything on the table — Greg's findings, the account transfers, the holding company, the property documentation, the forged amendment to the trust.
When he finished, she folded her hands and looked at him steadily.
"The trust amendment is the most serious element," she said.
"Forging a co-signatory's signature on a legal trust document is fraud.
That's not a grey area."
"Can it be stopped?"
"The administrator hasn't processed it.
The moment I contact them with a formal objection and a copy of your identification, the amendment is suspended pending investigation.
That happens today if you authorize me."
"Authorize it."
She made a note.
"The holding company and the property listing — that's civil territory, potentially criminal depending on intent.
We'd need to involve a financial crimes unit if you want to pursue it beyond recovery."
"I want Lily protected first.
Her trust, her name, her share — everything her mother set up for her.
That's the priority."
Patricia Holt nodded.
"We freeze the amendment.
We file a formal dispute with the trust administrator.
We place a legal notification on the property title that prevents any transfer without your direct, verified consent.
All of that can be initiated today."
"And Maya?"
The solicitor looked at him without flinching.
"That depends on what you want to do with what you know."
Daniel looked at the desk between them.
A pen.
A yellow notepad.
His own hands, still.
"I want her to answer for it," he said.
"But not in front of my daughter.
Not as a fight.
As a fact."
"Then we do this carefully and we do it completely." Patricia picked up her pen.
"I'll need Greg's documentation.
I'll need your identification, your original trust copy, and the bank statements.
Can you get those to me by end of day?"
"Yes."
"Then we move this week." She looked up from the notepad.
"Mr.
Reeves.
How old is your daughter?"
"Nine."
She wrote something down.
"Her mother set this trust up for her."
"Yes.
Before she passed.
She wanted Lily to always have something that was hers.
Something safe."
Patricia Holt set her pen down.
"Then let's make sure that's exactly what she has."
Daniel drove home.
He parked in the driveway.
He sat for a moment in the quiet car, looking at the front door.
Then he went inside, smiled at Maya over the kitchen counter, and asked how her afternoon had been.
She smiled back.
Told him it had been quiet.
Lovely, actually.
He nodded and went upstairs to collect the documents.
That evening, after dinner, after the children were in bed, Maya poured herself another glass of wine and typed a second message to the number with no name.
*Still quiet here.
I think he's letting it go.*
May you like
She didn't hear Daniel's bedroom door close softly down the hall.
She didn't see the envelope he'd left on the passenger seat of his car — documents ready, sealed, addressed to Patricia Holt's office for courier pickup at seven the following morning.
