Whitmore removed his glasses, polished them carefully, and put them back on.
“Regarding the Maple Street property,” he said, “there is an issue.”
The room went silent.
“The property is not part of Mr. Henderson’s estate. It is owned by Farwell Family Holdings LLC.”
Marcus sat upright instantly.
“What the hell is that?”
“A company your father formed in 2009,” Whitmore replied. “The transfer was properly recorded. Taxes and compliance fees were paid annually for fifteen years.”
Marcus swallowed hard.
“Fine. Then who owns the company?”
Whitmore looked at me.
Every head in the room turned.
“The operating agreement names a single member with full control over the company and all assets,” he said. “That person is Briana Henderson.”
The silence lasted three seconds.
Then Marcus shot to his feet.
“She manipulated him! She got to him when he was sick and confused—”
“The paperwork was executed in 2009,” Whitmore said calmly. “Your father was fifty-three and in excellent health. A licensed notary and his accountant witnessed everything. His accountant is prepared to testify to his competence.”
Marcus snatched up the document, scanning it with trembling hands.
“This is fraud. This can’t be real.”