“I’ll have my stuff out in 2 weeks,” he mumbled.
“You’ve got four,” I reminded him. “Use them wisely.”
And I left.
But that wasn’t the end.
A week later, I got a message from someone I hadn’t spoken to in years.
Uncle Ray, my dad’s younger brother, the one relative who never picked sides when our family started splintering after dad passed. He wasn’t close to Josh or me, but he always watched from the sidelines.
His message just said, “Saw what happened. Got something you might want to know. Call me when you can.”
That was the moment I realized this might be bigger than just rent and disrespect.
This might go deeper.
I stared at Uncle Ray’s message for a full minute before calling.
Ry wasn’t the type to reach out unless it really mattered. The last time we spoke was at dad’s funeral 5 years ago, and even then it was more nods and handshakes than conversation.
But something about his timing and the way he phrased it sent a chill down my spine.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Marcus,” he said, like he’d been expecting my call all day.
“Hey, Uncle Ray, I got your message.”
“Good. Listen, what happened with Josh? I don’t want to get in the middle of your business, but I’ve been holding on to something for a while now. I didn’t think it was my place, but after hearing what he pulled at that dinner…”
I leaned forward, elbows on my desk.
“What is it?”
Ray let out a long breath.
“It’s about your dad’s trust. The one he set up before he passed.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about it?” I asked.
Ray paused.
“You always believed it was split evenly, right? That you and Josh each got half.”
I blinked.
“That’s what the lawyer told us. Josh was 24 at the time. I was 29. It made sense.”
Rayside, “That’s not exactly what your dad wanted. I was there when he drafted the first version. The original plan was to leave everything to you. All of it.”