Two days after the funeral, a black sedan pulled up the gravel drive of the Croft Estate. It wasn’t the family’s usual legal counsel, but Arthur Sterling’s former firm–a rival group known for its ruthlessness.
A senior partner, Mr. Blackwood, entered the library where the family was gathered. He carried a sealed document case.
“I am here to execute the Last Will and Testament of Alistair Croft,” Blackwood announced, setting the case on the desk.
“My father’s will was drafted ten years ago,” William said, stepping forward as the head of the family. “We have a copy in the safe.”
“That document was revoked,” Blackwood corrected, opening the case. “A new testament was executed seventy-two hours ago. It was signed immediately following Mr. Croft’s video deposition to the Department of Justice.”
Beatrice paled. “He was dying. He wasn’t in his right mind.”
“On the contrary,” Blackwood said, pulling out a document stamped with a federal seal. “The witnessing signature belongs to Sebastian Cross. As a federally appointed auditor, his testimony regarding your husband’s competency is unimpeachable. Mr. Cross confirmed that Alistair Croft was lucid, precise, and fully aware of his actions.”
The room went cold. Alistair hadn’t just confessed to the police in his final moments; he had rearranged the chessboard one last time,.