Chapter 8 - One Dollar
Mr. Pierce did not pause, nor did he look up from the heavy parchment paper.
“To my husband, Richard Thomas Vale,” he read, pausing for just a fraction of a second to let the tension build, “I leave the sum of exactly one dollar.”
Someone in the middle aisle loudly gasped. Richard went completely, terrifyingly rigid, as if he had been struck by lightning.
“One dollar?” Vanessa shrieked, completely forgetting where she was. “That’s impossible! Daddy built this family!”
Mr. Pierce ignored the outburst, finishing the sentence.
“...And I leave him the forgiveness I have spent far too many painful years trying to give him.”
Richard lunged toward the lectern, his face twisted in genuine, unfiltered rage. His polite, grieving widower mask was completely gone.
“Stop reading right now, Samuel! This is a farce!”
Mr. Pierce raised one hand, his posture remaining perfectly relaxed.
“Mr. Vale, if you interrupt these legal proceedings one more time, I will ask the sheriff’s deputy waiting outside to join us inside the chapel.”
“There is no deputy outside,” Richard snapped, a cruel, confident smirk touching his lips. “I hired private security for this event.”
Mr. Pierce didn't argue. He simply glanced over Richard's shoulder toward the heavy back doors of the chapel.
Right on cue, the heavy oak doors swung open. A uniformed, armed county sheriff’s deputy stepped inside the sanctuary. He did not speak. He did not need to. He simply rested his hand near his utility belt and stared directly at Richard.
Richard stopped moving instantly. The blood drained from his face. My mother had planned for everything, down to the exact timing of the silence.
May you like
Mr. Pierce looked back at the legal document.
“To my daughter, Emily Rose Carter, I leave the Carter House on Magnolia Lane, all remaining personal property, all liquid bank accounts, all investment holdings, and complete, unmitigated control of the Carter Family Trust, established by my late father, Thomas Bellamy Carter.”
