Chapter 4: The Attorney Arrives First
The attorney's name was Gerald Foss.
He arrived at 7:52 a.m.
in a dark sedan, eight minutes early, carrying a slim briefcase and wearing the expression of a man who had done this kind of work before and found it unremarkable.
Emma met him at the side entrance.
"Miss Harrington is expecting me," he said.
"She is," Emma said.
"Please wait here."
She left him in the side corridor and went upstairs.
Brooke answered on the first knock, already dressed — a charcoal blazer, dark trousers, her hair pinned.
The warmth she had performed for Dominic was gone.
This was her working face.
"He's early," Emma said.
"Good." Brooke picked up the leather folder from the writing desk.
"Send him to the east sitting room.
Not the main one."
"Mr.
Mercer is in the study."
"I know where Dominic is." Brooke moved past her into the hallway.
"This won't take long."
Emma went back downstairs.
She showed Gerald Foss to the east sitting room, set a glass of water on the table beside him, and left the door three inches open.
Then she went to the study and knocked twice.
Dominic opened it immediately.
He was on the phone.
He held up one finger, finished the call, and looked at her.
"He's here," Emma said.
"East sitting room.
Door's open."
Dominic glanced toward the hallway.
"Brooke?"
"On her way down."
He nodded once and moved into the hall.
Emma followed at a distance.
The east sitting room was at the end of the corridor — a smaller, quieter room used for private meetings.
Dominic reached the doorway and stopped just outside it, where the angle of the wall kept him from view.
Inside, Brooke was already seated across from Gerald Foss.
The leather folder was open on the table between them.
"She refused again this morning," Brooke said.
"We need a secondary approach."
Gerald Foss set his briefcase on his knee.
"There are two options.
The first is a formal notice of household policy change, which would require her to acknowledge new residency terms within thirty days."
"That's too slow."
"The second is more direct.
If Mr.
Mercer were to sign a property management amendment before the wedding — which, given the prenuptial framework already in place, would be straightforward — the trust itself could be challenged on the grounds that it was established without independent legal review."
Brooke's finger tapped the table once.
"Could it be overturned?"
"Not easily.
But it could be tied up long enough to make the cottage unusable for the trust beneficiaries for a significant period.
During which time, alternative arrangements for the property could be formalized."
"And Marcus's offer would still be on the table."
"His firm has confirmed it remains open."
"Good."
Dominic stepped into the doorway.
Both of them looked up.
Gerald Foss went very still.
Brooke's expression moved through three things in under two seconds — surprise, calculation, recovery — and landed on calm.
"Dominic," she said.
"I was going to tell you about this meeting."
"I know." He walked to the table and picked up the leather folder.
He looked at the document inside — not quickly, not dramatically.
He read it the way a man reads something he wants to understand completely before he speaks.
Then he set it back down.
"Mr.
Foss."
The attorney straightened.
"Mr.
Mercer."
"Who retained you?"
A pause.
"Miss Harrington."
"For what purpose?"
Another pause — longer.
Gerald Foss looked at Brooke.
She gave him nothing.
"To advise on estate and trust restructuring related to the Mercer family property holdings," he said carefully.
"Did that advice include strategies for challenging a trust established by my late mother?"
The briefcase shifted on his knee.
"I provided general legal information regarding—"
"Yes or no."
Gerald Foss closed his briefcase.
"Yes."
Dominic looked at him for a long moment.
Then he looked at Brooke.
She had not moved.
Her hands were folded on the table.
Her expression was still composed — but the composition had cost her something.
He could see it in the line of her jaw.
"Mr.
Foss," Dominic said, "you're going to leave this house now.
You're not going to contact Miss Harrington again on any matter related to Mercer family property.
If you do, my attorneys will have a very detailed conversation with your licensing board about the ethical implications of advising a non-family member on how to challenge a deceased client's trust for the benefit of a third-party developer."
Gerald Foss stood up.
He did not look at Brooke again.
He walked out.
The door to the east sitting room was still three inches open.
His footsteps crossed the corridor and faded.
Dominic sat down across from Brooke.
She spoke first.
"You're overreacting."
"Am I."
"That document was exploratory.
I was protecting our future.
After Saturday, the estate becomes a shared responsibility, and I needed to understand the legal landscape."
"You needed to understand how to dissolve a trust my mother created for her grandchild."
"I needed to understand our options."
"Our options." He leaned forward slightly.
"Brooke.
My mother is buried on this property.
The cottage she lived in for thirty years is forty meters from her grave.
And you hired a lawyer to find a way to hand it to your brother's development firm."
"That is not what happened."
"I heard you."
Her chin lifted.
"You heard a private legal consultation taken entirely out of context."
"I heard you say Marcus's offer was still on the table."
Silence.
"I heard you say the trust could be tied up long enough to make the cottage unusable." His voice stayed level.
"I heard all of it, Brooke.
From the pantry this morning.
And from the doorway just now."
She looked at him for a long time.
When she finally spoke, her voice had changed.
The warmth was completely gone.
What was left was something harder and more honest than anything she had shown him in two years.
"You were never going to marry me," she said.
"Were you."
"I was going to marry the person I thought you were."
She stood up.
Picked up the folder.
Held it against her chest.
"Marcus will be very disappointed," she said.
"Marcus can call my attorney."
She walked to the door.
Stopped with her hand on the frame.
"You should know," she said, without turning around, "that I'm not the only one who knew about this plan."
Dominic's eyes sharpened.
"What does that mean?"
May you like
But she walked out without answering.
And the question she had left in the room was worse than anything Gerald Foss had said.
