During the drive back to Long Island, I called my attorney, Victor Lane, and ordered him to bring the trust documents, foundation bylaws, and security contracts to Whitmore House. Then I contacted Marjorie, the estate manager, and instructed her to lock Elena’s residence, preserve everything exactly as it was, and record the names of everyone involved in removing their belongings.
“When Elena returns, she enters through the front door. Not the servants’ entrance or the side portico. The front door.”
“Yes, Mr. Whitmore.”
Elena watched me from the back seat while Leo slept against her.
“I don’t want to begin a family war.”
“You didn’t begin it. You and Leo are already trapped in the middle of one. The difference is that someone has finally arrived on your side.”
