“When your grandparents died, they left provisions for you and Whitney,” he said. “Separate ones.”
“I’ve never heard about a trust.”
“I know.”
The pain in his voice made the answer before he gave it.
“My parents kept it from me?”
Richard looked toward Noah, then back at me.
“They controlled it while you were a minor. After you turned twenty-five, you were supposed to be given full access to the records.”
I was twenty-nine.
My heartbeat thudded painfully against my ribs.
“Did they take it?”
“I don’t know,” Richard said carefully. “I suspected irregularities years ago, but I couldn’t prove anything without documents. Your father blocked every inquiry. Your mother said you had asked not to involve me.”
I almost laughed again, but this time no sound came out.
“I never knew.”
“I believe you.”
Three words. Firm. Immediate.
The document shook in my hand.
