Grant’s face tightened.
“I’m the beneficiary.”
“One of several future beneficiaries,” Dana corrected. “You are not the trustee.”
She turned toward me.
“Mrs. Eleanor Whitmore is.”
The lawn became silent.
Even the band stopped playing.
Sloane let out a sharp laugh.
“That’s ridiculous. Eleanor gave us the estate.”
“I allowed you to live in the guesthouse temporarily,” I said. “I never transferred ownership of anything.”
“You told us this would all be Grant’s!”
“After my death, he may receive a limited interest, provided he complies with the trust.”
Grant stepped down from the stage.
“Mom, we’re family. This paperwork doesn’t change that.”
“No,” I said. “Your behavior changed that.”
Dana removed another document.
“The trust permits immediate revocation of residency in cases involving unauthorized commercial activity, harassment of the trustee, attempted fraud, financial exploitation, forgery, or efforts to seize trust assets.”
Sloane’s face lost some of its color.
“This is just a family party.”
Wade gestured toward the banner.
“You sold tickets, accepted event deposits, hired staff, promoted the venue publicly, and advertised future bookings.”
Sloane pointed toward the crowd.
“These are our friends.”
A woman near the pool raised her hand.
“I paid a five-thousand-dollar deposit for my daughter’s wedding.”
Another guest spoke up.
“We paid for a corporate retreat in September.”
The lifestyle influencer slowly lowered her camera.
“You told me you owned the estate.”
Sloane ignored them.
She looked at me with open hatred.
“You’re confused, Eleanor. You’ve been confused for months.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed.
“Be very careful about what you say next.”
Cole placed a large printed photograph on the dining table.
It showed Grant, Sloane, and Curtis Vale standing beside the west barn with the shoreline map spread across the vehicle.
Grant’s face went pale.
Sloane barely glanced at it.
“A photograph proves nothing.”
“You’re right,” I said.
I raised the tablet.
“The audio is much clearer.”
Sloane froze.
I pressed play.
Her own voice echoed across the lawn.
“Once Eleanor signs the management transfer, Grant will have full authority over the trust.”
Then Grant’s voice followed.
“What if she reads the document?”
Sloane’s recorded laughter filled the silence.
“She never reads anything you give her. Tell her it’s an insurance form.”
Several guests stepped away from them.
The drone continued hovering overhead.
Every word was still being broadcast live.
