Chapter 9

Arthur stood up abruptly.

"Impossible!"

He marched over to the attorney.

"After my pops had a stroke, how could he possibly handle a property transfer? He couldn't even speak clearly!"

The attorney pulled a document from his briefcase.

"The notarization certificate."

He placed it on the table.

"Issued by the Municipal Records Bureau on June 17, 2022. Mr. Richard Montgomery was present in person, and the notary confirmed he was of sound mind and signed voluntarily."

Arthur snatched the document, flipping through it once, and then again.

It bore Papa's signature. It was crooked, but it was unmistakably his handwriting, accompanied by the steel seal of the Municipal Records Bureau.

My sister-in-law leaned over to look.

"Five... five point two million?" Her voice trembled. "Two commercial properties are worth five point two million?"

She whipped around to face me.

"Did you trick Pops into signing this when he was confused?!"

"The Municipal Records Bureau has a full video recording," the attorney stated calmly.

My sister-in-law snapped her mouth shut.

Arthur slammed the document onto the table.

"Even if the commercial properties were given to him, the house is still mine!" He glared at the attorney, as if trying to bolster his own courage. "The house belongs to me. It's written in the will, signed and all!"

The attorney pushed up his glasses again.

"Yes," he said. "The house does indeed belong to you."

Reaching into his briefcase, he retrieved another document.

"Along with the unpaid mortgage on the house—" He opened the folder. "—which is exactly 2.8 million."

Arthur's face wasn't just pale anymore; it was completely ashen.

"What... mortgage?"

"Mr. Richard Montgomery mortgaged this property in 2020 to secure a bank loan of 2.8 million," the attorney explained. "The funds were used to purchase the two commercial properties on Liberty Avenue."

He looked directly at Arthur.

"The first clause of the will clearly states that the property belongs to the eldest son, Arthur. Furthermore, the signature page explicitly notes that the heir confirms acceptance of all terms of the will. You have already signed."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"According to the relevant provisions of the National Civil Code, an heir who accepts an inheritance shall bear the debts of the deceased within the scope of the estate. Which means the house is yours—and so is the mortgage. Two point eight million."

My sister-in-law's legs gave way, and she slumped back into her seat.

"Two point eight..."

Arthur stood there, looking as if his bones had been completely removed.

"This... I don't accept this. I can renounce the inheritance..."

"Mr. Montgomery," the attorney's voice remained perfectly calm. "You have already signed. The will has taken effect, and once it is in effect, it cannot be undone."

Arthur slowly turned to me.

"Elias—did you know about this all along?"

I met his gaze.

"Didn't you say, 'Pops's arrangements must have their reasons'?"

His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. No words came out.

My sister-in-law suddenly shrieked.

"No! This doesn't count! He didn't know there was a mortgage when he signed!"

The attorney looked up.

"The second line on the signature page reads, 'I confirm that I am fully aware of the contents of the will and the accompanying rights and obligations'." He pushed the signature page in front of my sister-in-law. "Signed by your husband."

She stared at the line of text, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

The living room fell into a long, heavy silence.

Then the attorney spoke again. "We're not done yet."

He took out an envelope. Three words were written across the front: "For Elias."

It was Pops's handwriting—crooked and shaky, clearly written after his stroke.

"Mr. Richard Montgomery requested that this letter be opened publicly after the reading of the will," the attorney said, looking at me. "But since the recipient is Mr. Elias, I need your consent."

I nodded. "Read it."

The attorney opened the envelope and pulled out two pages. The first page was a message from Pops to me; the second was a bank statement.

The attorney read the letter first.

"'Elias: By the time you read this letter, Pops will be gone. The most right thing Pops did in this life was raising you. The most wrong thing was letting you shoulder everything alone for three years.'"

My eyes grew hot.

"'It's not that Pops didn't know how much you suffered. Every morning when you helped me turn over, you thought I was asleep. I wasn't. I was awake the whole time. You had chilblains on your hands. Your back was bad. You were always so tired. But you never once cried in front of me.'"

Tears rolled down my face, and I didn't bother to wipe them away.

"'When Pops asked you to keep the shop's title transfer a secret, you really didn't say a single word. For three years. Even when Arthur called to ask what assets Pops had, you didn't say anything.'"

Arthur's face turned a sickly shade of green as everyone's eyes shifted toward him.

"'Pops knew what Arthur was thinking. His first call was to ask about my condition, and the second was to ask who would split the medical bills. Whenever he came to see me, it was never for more than two hours. Pops also knew what Beatrice was thinking. She only came to see me to show off on PhotoStream. When she hugged me for selfies, I could smell her perfume—a five-hundred-dollar bottle of perfume. And she gave you, gave Elias, two thousand dollars. But what Pops knew best was what Arthur did five years ago.'"

The attorney paused, picking up the second page—the bank statement.

"The 'incident five years ago' mentioned in Mr. Richard Montgomery's letter—" He placed the bank statement on the table. "Between April 2019 and January 2020, Mr. Arthur Montgomery transferred a total of 470,000 from Mr. Richard Montgomery's bank account in seven separate transactions."

My eldest brother's face drained of all color.

"The memo line said 'loan'," the attorney continued, "but Mr. Richard Montgomery stated in his letter that this money was never returned."

He resumed reading. "'Arthur said he borrowed it for an investment. I don't know what he invested in, but the money never came back. 470,000. It was my life savings. I didn't confront him about it because he is my son. But I remembered. I remembered everything.'"

My eldest brother slumped back onto the sofa. My sister-in-law's face could no longer be described as merely pale; it was completely ashen.

The relatives' eyes were no longer on me. They all stared at my eldest brother.

Great-Great-Aunt finally opened her mouth. "Arthur... 470,000..."

Uncle Albert put down his teacup and slowly shook his head.

Uncle Horace stood up. "No wonder Richard kept saying his savings weren't enough lately..."

The whispers quickly swelled into a low, condemning buzz.

Arthur sat frozen on the sofa, his hands shaking and his lips trembling.

"I... I meant it... as a loan..."

No one responded.

My Middle Sister shrank into the corner. 428,600. That was the entire sum of savings she had inherited. Pops's original savings had been far more than that, but 470,000 had been "borrowed" by my eldest brother, and 2.8 million had gone into buying the commercial properties—which were then transferred to me.

In other words, the 428,600 my Middle Sister received was just the loose change left in Pops's hands.

Her face didn't look too good, either.