Chapter 4: The Judgment of Lawrence Rothstein
Friday morning arrived with the oppressive weight of a New England winter storm. The meeting was held at Lawrence Rothstein’s office in downtown Boston—a corner suite on the 14th floor overlooking the Boston Common.
Diane sat in the center of the room, draped in a black St. John suit and pearls. She looked like the image of dignity, nhưng her fingers were shredding a lace handkerchief in her lap. Preston sat beside her, but he was leaned away, his eyes fixed on the floor. He hadn’t spoken to her in twenty-four hours.
I sat across from them, the red folder heavy in my lap. The second cousins and minor beneficiaries filled the back of the room, sensing the blood in the water.
Lawrence Rothstein opened his leather briefcase with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here to finalize the distribution of the William Carmichael Estate, valued at approximately $47.3 million.”
He pulled a sealed envelope from the GeneTech Labs. “As per the biological clause added to the will two years ago, we have the results of the mandatory DNA testing.”
The silence was so thick it felt physical.
“Elena Carmichael,” Lawrence read, his voice steady. “Confirmed 99.999% biological match to William Carmichael. She is the legal and biological heir.“
I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding since I was seventeen. Diane’s posture shifted; she looked at me with a cold, desperate hope. She still thought Preston was safe.
“Preston Carmichael,” Lawrence continued. He paused, his eyes flicking over the paper. He didn’t look at me. He looked at Preston.
