He pulled out his phone and handed it to me.
The video was short. But George's words were unmistakable: the new will was real, made of my uncle's own free choice.
I stood there, paralyzed.
My gaze swung between George and Finch.
Had Finch bought him off?
The accusation left my mouth before I could stop it.
"Great-Uncle George, did he pay you? How much did it take? How could you do this to my uncle? How could you betray my parents?"
George's expression hardened, all warmth draining from his face.
"Simon." His voice dropped, sharp as a blade. "What nonsense are you spouting? I met Mr. Finch for the first time today. I'm an old man—what would I do with his money? This was your uncle's decision. His choice."
"No!" The word tore out of me. "My uncle would never abandon me!"
I spun and seized Finch by the collar, hauling him close, glaring into his face from inches away.
"Who the hell are you?" I snarled. "Why would my uncle willingly give you everything? Tell me—what did you use to threaten a dying man into signing away his legacy?"
The composure Russ had maintained finally cracked.