Chapter 8: What the Forensic Report Found
The Illinois Attorney General's office opened a formal inquiry nine days later.
Grace called me while I was in a meeting with my media team.
I stepped into the hallway, the glass door swinging shut behind me, the sound of the city coming up through the windows.
"They've accepted the forensic report," she said.
"They're treating it as a potential elder financial exploitation case.
Richard Montgomery was diagnosed with early-stage cognitive decline fourteen months before he signed the revised will."
"Eleanor knew about the diagnosis?"
"She was the one who arranged the private evaluation.
She used the family's personal physician — a man who retired to Florida eight months after Richard died and who received a very generous gift from the Montgomery estate in his final year of practice." Grace paused.
"It's not airtight.
But it's enough to open the inquiry."
"What does that mean for the will?"
"If the court finds that Richard lacked capacity when he signed the revision, the original will stands.
The boys' inheritance claim is restored." Another pause.
"It also means Eleanor may face personal liability.
Financial exploitation of a vulnerable adult is a criminal matter in Illinois."
I stood in the hallway and looked through the glass at my team.
Dana was pulling up a presentation.
Two of my younger designers were arguing cheerfully over a color palette.
The company I had built in a cramped apartment while my babies slept beside my desk.
"How long?" I said.
"These things move slowly.
Eighteen months, maybe two years before anything is resolved in court." Grace's voice was careful.
"But Vivienne — Eleanor's attorney called this morning.
Prescott has withdrawn from the matter.
She's looking for new representation."
"She's having trouble finding someone."
"She's having trouble finding someone willing to take it."
I looked at my phone.
There was a text from Ethan: *Boys asked if they can see me Saturday.
Is that okay?*
I typed back: *Yes.
They've been asking about you every day.*
His reply: *I'll be there at ten.
I'll bring breakfast.*
Then, after a moment: *Thank you for not keeping them from me.
After everything.
You didn't have to do that.*
I put the phone in my pocket and went back into the meeting.
Two weeks later, Eleanor Montgomery retained a new attorney — a younger man from a firm that specialized in white-collar defense.
The day his name appeared on the court filing, I received a hand-delivered letter at my office.
No return address.
Eleanor's handwriting on the envelope.
Inside, one sentence:
*You have no idea what it cost me to hold this family together.*
I read it twice.
Then I set it on Grace's desk and told her to add it to the file.
May you like
I didn't write back.
There was nothing to say that the court wouldn't say better.
