Emergency Rehabilitation Draft - Troy x Shane AU
Chapter 2
“I understand this is difficult, Mr Barrett, but it's essential we understand as much about the crash as possible. Anything information you have is very important.”
Troy stared at the investigating officer from his hospital bed.
A brisk, haughty voice to his right answered. “My son doesn't have to answer any of your questions without a lawyer present.”
When had his father gotten here? Troy could barely think. His leg was broken and he had burns across his left arm and chest. He was still hooked to an IV, and a steady stream of morphine delivered on demand.
“Sir, Troy here isn't under arrest nor is he under investigation. We are simply trying to gather eye witness accounts—”
Hands held together. An explosion. A thump, then a crash as the plane hit the ground, too fast, too fast. Hands ripped away. Sirens. Yelling. Darkness. A fierce, searing pain that forced him into consciousness. Harris's blank face. Still and unmoving. A voice, calling out. Crawling. Bood. Pulling him out of his seat belt. Dragging him. Luca screaming, “Captain! Captain! Ilya, no. No no no!”
Troy blinked. “It's okay. I don't need a lawyer. Because I don't remember the crash. At all. I got knocked unconscious. Sorry.” He closed his eyes and pressed the pain medication pump once more.
***
A row had broken out in the waiting room of the Moscow lawyers office.
“You'll do what is decent! What is expected! Or I will expose you! All your little secrets, I'll tell your wife all about your little mistresses—”
“Sveta, please darling,” said the calm voice of Sergei Vetrov. ”I'm sure we don't need to resort to threats. Alexei, I understand you and Ilya were not speaking but you must do your duty. He was a public figure, and it wouldn't do any good for his image— your family image — if you were to fail to provide an adequate funeral. Cremation is of course out of the question.”
“Adequate, Jesus, papa—”
Alexei snarled. “I will not waste money on a circus for that traitor!”
“You will have plenty of money, I am sure, once the finances are sorted.” “Alexei, please. There are those of us that would like the chance to say goodbye. A small, family affair perhaps? And we can arrange a memorial in Canada? It needn't be expensive. Perhaps his team might pay…”
Sveta bit her lip. Somewhere she thought desperately of Jane, whoever he was. Was he grieving? Did he know what had happened? Surely, he must. Maybe he would come to the memorial. She tried not to think about Ilya’s body— what was left of it—, being repatriated to Russia on a plane. The thing that had killed him.
Alexei bristled and sat up as a thin gentleman approached them with a folder.
“Ah, Mr Rozanov, I presume. And uh, Miss Vetrova? Thankyou for coming. Piotr Kiyatkin, we spoke on the phone. And this is?”
“My father. Sergei Vetrov. I asked him to come. ”
“Well. As we are discussing confidential matters perhaps we might better go into my office, Mr Rozanov?”
“No, no, we do this together so they can hear it for themselves, so they don't interfere with my family business any more.”
The solicitor raised an eyebrow at Svetlana, who nodded. “Better we all know where we stand.”
The solicitor ushered them into a small room and sat down at a sturdy oak desk. He steepled his fingers.
“Well. I thank you for your patience. It took a while to track down the late Mr Ilya's affairs in Canada and the United States. And I'm afraid this isn't quite what you were hoping for, Mr Rozanov. The executor of the will is a trust company in Ottawa, and they have empowered me to speak to you both. The fact is, neither of you are the executor or a major beneficiary of the estate. I have a been informed that he has bequeathed any items of sentimental items, letters, photographs etc, in connection to your late parents be delivered you Mr Rozanov, but no major assets.”
Sveta gasped. He'd done it. He'd actually done as threatened and cut Alexei out.
“You cannot be serious. I am his only family!”
“Prior to his move to Canada, Mr Rozanov held a will here which I believe favored his next of kin, but things have changed. Mr Rozanov's finances are quite complex
but his most recent will is very clear. As it will be announced publicly, I can inform you that the bulk of his investments settle upon the Irina Foundation, his uh, charity?”
“That's it? The God damn charity gets it all?! What about his house? His cars?”
“The cars are to be sold, and the house is bequeathed to a third party.”
“Who?” Alexei demanded.
“I'm afraid, confidentiality…”
“I'll take them to court!”
“Mr Rozanov, calm yourself. I understand this is disappointing but there is substantial trust for your daughter Natalia for her access at 18, with subsequent amounts at 21 and 25. I cannot offer you legal advice on this but I urge you to consider your next move carefully. If you want to fight the legal access to that, well, we won't be able to represent you on that matter. We'll write to Nataliya as she comes of age. The management of the trusts is handled by an accountancy firm, instructed by us. Suitable safeguards are in place against mismanagement but I will send you the details for your peace of mind. They are substantial assets and it would be… detrimental if that capital be diminished by defending the trust against protracted and likely fruitless litigation.”
Alexei frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Sveta snarled. “It means they pay the legal fees from your daughter's money. You waste your own daughter's money to pay lawyers to get your grubby hands on what's rightly hers, and you'll probably lose anyway!”
Alexei looked like he'd been shot. He clutched his chest, his head shaking slowly.
Kiyatkin cleared his throat. “Well. If I can continue. There are a few minor bequests, Ms Vetrova, I have a letter here detailing a bequest made to you personally.”
Sveta took the offered envelope with a nod, and felt Alexei's eyes on her, but did not open it.
“Who decides where he's buried?” Sveta asked anxiously.
“Ah. Well, there are no specific instructions. The trust would typically consult next of kin or other close relations— ”
Alexei stood up. “God damn you all. He can be cremated and the ashes tossed to sea, for all I care. I'm done with that cock sucker. Let him rot.”
He stormed out of the room.
“Can I contact the trust. I know what Ilya would have wanted.”
Kiyatkin looked at her sadly. “I hope that's true. Ms Vetrova.”
