I drew in a shaky breath. Gage scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Damn,” he murmured. “What are you going to do about Margot?”
This was targeted sabotage, and I let it happen.
“What I should’ve done long ago.” I headed for the door. “Take away her power.”
I closed myself inside my office door and pulled out the binder I hadn’t cracked open in several years. My father had entrusted me with it when he named me executor of the family trust, months before I received my MBA. And shortly before he died, almost as though he knew it was coming.
I ran a hand over the worn leather cover, feeling the weight of it in a way I never had before. For years, I’d justified every financial decision I made in my mother’s favor. She was a widow. She was grieving. She needed stability, structure, and support. At least that was the story I’d told myself to avoid confronting the truth.
But now I knew better.
She hadn't needed protection. She’d used it. Used me, her own son.
Callie had threatened the status quo, and my mother had moved to protect her hold on me, no matter who she hurt in the process.
I flipped to the section on discretionary allocations—funds my father had left for me to oversee with judgment and restraint. Money my mother had treated like her personal safety net, all while chipping away at my marriage.
I reached for the phone and dialed the family attorney. “Mitchell? It’s Ethan Prescott. I’m exercising executor authority on the family trust effective immediately.”
There was a slight pause on the other end. “Of course. What do you need?”
“Freeze all discretionary distributions to my mother. From now on, every request goes to me through you in writing, with supporting documentation. No exceptions. And no advance payments.”
Mitchell had been my father’s attorney for years, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll draft the amendment to the trust protocols today.” He cleared his throat. “Has your mother been informed of the change?”
“I’ll be handling that next.”
“Good luck, son.”
I hung up and pulled up my mother’s contact before I could overthink it. She picked up on the second ring.
“Ethan? What nonsense did that girl feed you now? You sounded ridiculous earlier. I assume she’s still manipulating?—”
“This isn’t about Callie,” I interjected, cutting off the flow of her verbal poison. “Not one part of this is about her.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped. “Everything was fine until she started pulling you away from your family.”
“No, it was fine because you were getting exactly what you wanted, but that stops now.”
There was the slightest hint of fear in my mother’s voice when she asked, “What do you mean?”
“Going forward, you will only receive your monthly stipend from the family trust. No extras,” I explained. “If you run into an expense that you believe should be covered, you will submit a written request to Mitchell, who will pass it along to me for review. I will only approve items which are outlined in the agreement. No exceptions. So be sure to include any required documentation to speed the process along.”
“You’re restricting my funds?” she shrieked. “I knew this would happen. You refuse to see it, but Callie is a gold digger. She’s always wanted your money?—”
“Stop.” My voice cracked like a whip. “Sophie confessed today. She admitted you told her to delete my alerts and that she was somehow supporting my career by sabotaging personal appointments on my calendar. She also admitted you called her before your supposed heart attack scare to double-check my schedule.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You’re going to take the word of that girl over your own mother?”
“It wasn’t just her word, Mother. There were system logs of what she deleted and the holes in your story about when you called her that night.” I leaned forward, gripping the edge of my desk. “It’s over. You’ve been caught. The least you can do is admit you’ve been trying to ruin my marriage since before we even walked down the aisle.”
I’d ignored the signs for too long, but not anymore. Not after what she’d cost me.
