Chapter 63: The Trust Contract

Ethan walked back inside the massive house, carrying only the evidence bag: the camera, the USB drive, and the printed contracts.

As he entered the dining area, he found Jason had already set the table. The breakfast was simple but looked impeccably done: scrambled eggs, perfectly crisp bacon, toast with butter, and jam. Everything was neatly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past twenty-four hours.

"Morning, Boss," Jason said, pulling out a chair for Ethan with professional swiftness. "I hope scrambled eggs and bacon are sufficient. I tried to keep it light before we head out."

"Perfect, Jason, thank you," Ethan replied, genuinely touched by the gesture. He sat down and placed the documents carefully beside his plate. "You really didn’t need to do this. I’ll get that cook hired today."

"It’s truly my pleasure, Boss," Jason insisted, taking the seat opposite him. "It keeps me sharp."

They began to eat in comfortable silence for a moment. Ethan then picked up the contract. "Let’s review this thing my father cooked up before we head to the bank."

He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the dense, legal text, looking for the critical clause his father had mentioned—the one designed to protect the assets from Vincent Halbert, even after death.

Ethan paused, a spoonful of eggs halfway to his mouth, as he found the relevant section, titled "Covenant of Ultimate Disposition".

"SECTION 4.01: UNCONDITIONAL TERMINATION CLAUSE. Upon the verifiable demise of the Principal (Ethan A. Blake) for any reason, all remaining non-liquidated assets, accounts, and properties held in trust shall be immediately and irrevocably transferred to the ’Blake Charitable Foundation’ as designated in Schedule B, thereby nullifying all previous bequests or claims from the Executor (Vincent Halbert) or any affiliated party. The purpose is to ensure the complete protection of the Principal’s legacy from hostile acquisition."

Ethan nodded, a faint smile forming. "That’s my dad," he murmured. "A total spiteful genius."

He then looked at the second signature block on the contract—Jason’s. He quickly scanned the subsequent pages, which detailed Jason’s commitment as Chief of Security and Asset Guardian.

He found the corresponding clause Jason had signed:

"SECTION 4.02: SUBORDINATE OBLIGATION. The undersigned Subordinate (Jason Carter) agrees that in the event the Clause 4.01 is triggered by the Principal’s demise while the Subordinate is actively employed, the Subordinate is legally required to liquidate all remaining Principal’s assets and sell all non-essential property immediately, transferring all proceeds to the aforementioned charitable foundation. Any attempt to retain or divert funds will result in immediate criminal prosecution and forfeiture of all accumulated benefits."

Ethan slowly put the paper down, his gaze fixed on Jason, a profound sense of trust blooming in his chest.

"You signed this part," Ethan stated, not as an accusation, but as a realization. "You agreed to sell everything off and give the money away, even if something happens to me."

Jason looked him straight in the eye, his expression earnest. "Yes, Boss. Mr. Blake was a good man. He explained the intent. His goal was to protect you and, failing that, to deny that bastard Halbert everything. I fully support that goal. I signed it because it’s the right thing to do. My job is to protect your interests, living or otherwise."

Ethan picked up his fork again, feeling a weight lift from his chest. "Thank you, Jason. That means a lot. Truly."

He paused, chewing a piece of bacon, then added with a wry smile, "But seriously, don’t worry about Section 4.01. I just got bulletproof skin yesterday. I don’t plan on dying anytime soon."

Jason’s face remained neutral, accustomed to his Boss’s strange quips, but a faint, professional curiosity sparked in his eyes. "I sincerely hope not, Boss. We have a lot of work to do."

Ethan sighed inaudibly. He hadn’t meant to blurt out the bulletproof skin comment, but Jason, thankfully, seemed to have either ignored it or simply categorized it as another odd quip from his young boss.

"Anyway," Ethan said, diverting the conversation back to the contract. "I don’t have a computer to open this..." He stopped short. "Wait, yes, I do. It’s hidden."

He bolted from the table, still damp from the pool, and headed toward the main living room. Jason followed closely. Behind the massive 120-inch main screen, Ethan located a concealed compartment. Inside was a powerful desktop computer, fully connected to the screen and various consoles, as if it were a high-tech media hub.

Ethan quickly powered up the computer and retrieved the USB drive from the evidence bag. He took it out of its plastic sheath, and immediately noticed the problem. The drive wasn’t standard; the connection port had a strangely proprietary shape.

Jason took the USB drive from him, turning it over in his hand. "I’ve never seen a port like this, Boss. It’s custom-made. Did your father leave you anything else that might have the matching hardware?"

Ethan frowned, trying to remember the chaotic days following his father’s death. "Yeah, I do. I have a couple of boxes with a lot of my dad’s things that he left somewhere else. But I never opened them—I preferred to store them exactly as they were given to me."

"Who gave you those boxes?" Jason pressed, his protective instincts on high alert. "And why were they given to you if everything should have been in the house where you lived?"

Ethan pieced together the fragments of that traumatic day. "That whole day was a blur," he recalled, his smile fading. "When I found out my dad had died, they immediately came and threw me out of the house. They said my mother died in an accident that same day. Everything happened too fast." He paused, remembering the kindness of his temporary guardians. "I went to stay with some friends, Alfred and Martha, but I didn’t want to be a burden and left after only a few days." He remembered Lilly’s cheerful ass and frowned slightly. "I miss her a lot."

"When I finally found an apartment," Ethan continued, his voice hardening, "I went back to our house to get my things. They only gave me those few boxes. They claimed everything else had been sold to cover administrative costs." He realized now, with chilling certainty, "Now that I think about it, they were probably looking for this memory stick too."

Ethan looked at the USB in Jason’s hand. "Why do

you

have it, Jason?"

Jason’s expression was grave. "The day they ambushed your father, he gave it to me secretly. He whispered in my ear never to let Vincent get his hands on it. I always believed the program—the real leverage—was on this drive, but I never had time to even look at it. I was running and hiding that day. I barely had time to survive, let alone check the contents. I just ran and buried it until I could retrieve it safely."

Ethan laughed lightly, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of his life. "I guess we need those boxes, then." He clapped Jason lightly on the shoulder. "I’m going to take a quick shower so we can get going. The clock is ticking."

Jason nodded, immediately beginning to clear the breakfast dishes.