Chapter 2 - The New Will
My heart monitor spiked rapidly as I stared at the forged signature on the medical proxy.
My own flesh and blood had tried to rob me while doctors were literally pulling glass from my chest.
A cold, absolute detachment washed over my exhausted body.
I looked up at Julian and told him to read every single change aloud.
He cleared his throat and began reciting the newly drafted terms of my estate.
My parents were permanently removed as beneficiaries.
My sister Lauren was removed entirely from every single trust.
Their unrestricted access to my emergency corporate accounts was officially revoked.
The beautiful lake house they loved to vacation in was scheduled to be immediately sold.
The massive education trusts they fully expected to fund Lauren’s future children were completely dissolved.
The prestigious charitable foundation board seats they proudly bragged about to their country club friends were gone.
I signed my name at the bottom of the heavy legal packet with a shaking, bruised hand.
Julian notarized the pages with his official stamp just as the heavy wooden door to my room swung open.
At exactly 10:03 p.m., my mother finally walked into my hospital room holding a lukewarm takeout coffee.
She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh and told me that I had really scared them.
Julian slowly turned away from the window to face her.
I looked straight into my mother's eyes with zero emotion.
I quietly told her that I was the one who was scared.
She rolled her eyes, completely dismissing my pain as she set her coffee on the tray table.
She told me to stop being so dramatic because the doctors said I was going to be perfectly fine.
Julian stepped forward and handed her a crisp, legal envelope containing the disinheritance notice.
My mother laughed, assuming it was just some sort of standard hospital billing paperwork.
She tore open the envelope and scanned the first few lines of the legal decree.
The color instantly drained from her perfectly contoured face.
She dropped her coffee cup, sending brown liquid splattering across the pristine white hospital floor.
She gasped and demanded to know what kind of sick joke this was.
I told her it was not a joke and that she needed to leave my room immediately.
She lunged toward the edge of my bed with a look of pure, unadulterated panic in her eyes.
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She screamed that I could not cut them off today of all days.
She confessed that Lauren’s husband owed three million dollars to a dangerous underground syndicate, and they needed my money by midnight to keep him alive.
