My Father Skipped My Graduation For A Dog’s Birthday — His Secret Trust Trap Cost Him Everything
Part 2
I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down heavily.
Sarah did not waste time with polite pleasantries.
She explained that my grandfather had established a massive trust thirty years ago.
The trust explicitly mandated a perfectly equal split between Heather and me.
My father was merely the designated trustee.
He had absolutely no legal authority to change the distribution percentages.
The confusing document Brian brought me was actually a voluntary waiver.
My father was trying to trick me into signing away my entire half of the inheritance.
He wanted to funnel the overwhelming majority of the money directly to Heather.
A cold, sharp clarity washed over me.
My father could not steal my share without my active consent.
He was terrified I would actually read the paperwork.
He built the entire deceptive document on the assumption that I still craved his approval.
He thought I would blindly sign anything he handed me.
I told Sarah we were not going to sign a single page.
We were going to let him sweat.
The silence drove my father crazy.
His blocked number piled up in my voicemail logs four times in one afternoon.
He sent demanding text messages trying to summon me like a disobedient employee.
My mother started leaving nervous voicemails about family unity.
Heather bombarded me with texts accusing me of being selfish and trying to ruin her life.
I ignored every single notification.
I let the silence stretch for agonizing weeks.
My father finally escalated the situation.
He hired a completely separate, aggressive law firm.
He filed legal motions challenging my refusal to sign.
Sarah countered every single motion with plain facts.
She dug deeper into the trust’s financial history during discovery.
She found glaring discrepancies in the management fees my father had been drawing for years.
He had been quietly taking far more money than the trust guidelines allowed.
That discovery changed everything.
Brian called me directly.
His voice sounded completely defeated.
He admitted my father had lied to him about the true nature of the waiver.
He told me my father had specifically asked him to obscure the redistribution language to trick me.
Brian refused to represent a man trying to defraud his own daughter.
He demanded a final negotiation meeting to settle the matter entirely.
My father chose a high-end conference room with mahogany tables and a sweeping view of the city.
He wanted to use his wealth to intimidate me one last time.
He brought Heather with him to present a united front.
He slid a newly revised document across the polished table.
He claimed it was a fair compromise that would satisfy everyone.
What do you think happened when I finally walked into that boardroom and saw the massive legal trap my father had accidentally laid for himself?
Part 3
Megan sat back in the heavy leather chair and laughed until her ribs ached.
The sound echoed off the thick glass walls of the high-end corporate conference room.
Across the massive polished mahogany table, her father Greg stared at her with complete, utter bewilderment.
He had just confidently handed her a newly revised trust document designed to secure his permanent control over her grandfather’s massive fortune.
He thought he was backing her into an inescapable legal corner.
Instead, he had accidentally written a new clause that explicitly violated the original trust’s most ironclad rule.
By trying to grab eternal power for himself, Greg had just legally fired himself from his own position.
The journey to that specific conference room had actually begun over thirty years earlier in a house that always smelled like fresh flowers and old money.
Greg had built a massive real estate empire entirely from scratch.
He was a man who believed his sheer willpower could bend the entire world to his absolute specifications.
He made sure everyone in their affluent town knew exactly how much he had achieved.
Megan’s mother Brenda ran their household like a theatrical stage production.
She was constantly aware of who might be watching and what they might be thinking.
From the time Megan was old enough to understand the fundamental difference between being deeply loved and merely being tolerated, she understood the family dynamic.
Her younger sister Heather was the undisputed star of that relentless production.
Megan was simply somewhere in the distant background holding a prop to make the stage look full.
Megan still remembered standing in their expansive kitchen at twelve years old with a crisp paper certificate tight in her hand.
She had just won the top academic award in her entire middle school.
She had run all the way home completely breathless.
She was absolutely certain that this would finally be the moment her father looked at her with genuine pride.
Greg briefly looked at the certificate, nodded exactly once, and immediately went back to reading his morning newspaper.
Two agonizing weeks later, Heather brought home a flimsy participation ribbon from a local spelling bee she had not even placed in.
Brenda immediately threw a lavish party with dozens of neighbors.
There were bright balloons and expensive catered food filling the dining room.
Megan stood alone in the corner of that dining room, hopelessly confused, wondering exactly what she had done wrong to deserve such indifference.
That pattern never stopped.
It continued relentlessly through middle school, high school, and when she got into a highly competitive university.
When Megan decided to commission into the military instead of pursuing a safer career, the silent disapproval became deafening.
Greg wanted her in a soft corporate job that would look much better at his prestigious dinner parties.
He never once said he was proud of her difficult choice.
He simply told her it was an unusual path for someone of her background and he hoped she knew exactly what she was throwing away.
Heather, meanwhile, could barely hold down a simple retail job for more than six months at a time.
Greg and Brenda simply called her a creative free spirit who was taking her time finding her true path.
Everything finally fractured permanently when Megan met Tyler.
Tyler was absolutely nothing like the wealthy, connected men her parents had been quietly trying to introduce her to since she turned twenty-two.
He was the humble son of a local electrician.
He taught high school history in a public school forty minutes outside the city limits.
It was the kind of demanding job that came with grading endless stacks of papers on Friday nights.
It also came with a modest salary that made Brenda’s perfectly manicured eyebrow twitch the first time she rudely asked about it at dinner.
But Tyler was incredibly steady.
He actually listened intently when Megan spoke instead of merely waiting for his own turn to talk.
He remembered tiny, specific details about her that she had not even realized mattered until he casually brought them up months later.
He made her laugh in a deep, genuine way that felt exactly like exhaling after holding her breath for several decades.
Greg and Brenda despised Tyler almost immediately.
Megan still vividly remembered sitting in her father’s massive private study.
The thick smell of expensive leather and old imported cigars hung heavily in the air.
Greg sat behind his massive desk and looked at her with utter disdain.
He told her plainly that their family did not marry people like Tyler.
He did not say he was worried about her future or ask to learn more about the man she loved.
He delivered it as a flat, cold business statement, exactly like he was talking about firing the wrong contractor for a new building project.
Megan remembered the way her chest tightened painfully.
She had to consciously unclench her rigid jaw before she could force out a single word.
She told him she was marrying Tyler regardless of what he thought or threatened.
Greg simply stated that she was entirely on her own.
He went right back to reading his financial paperwork the exact same way he had gone back to his newspaper all those years ago.
They actually came to the wedding, though only for appearances.
They sat stiffly in the second row of the small church.
Brenda wore a pale blue designer dress that cost a fortune.
Greg wore a tailored suit that likely cost more than Tyler’s entire first-year teaching salary.
They smiled widely for the professional photographs because maintaining the illusion of a perfect family mattered more to them than anything else.
But afterward, at every single family gathering and forced holiday dinner, Greg always found a subtle way to remind her of his absolute disapproval.
He constantly told her she had married far beneath herself.
He repeated the insult so many times over the years that it completely stopped sounding like an insult to him.
It became just a casual fact he stated aloud the exact same way someone might mention the dreary weather outside.
Megan desperately told herself she could simply live with the constant disrespect.
She told herself that her demanding military career, her loving marriage, and her quiet version of happiness would eventually be enough to drown out his cruel voice.
She was entirely wrong about that assumption.
The advanced military officer training program Megan completed years later was easily one of the hardest things she had ever endured.
It broke her down physically and exhausted her mentally.
There were grueling fourteen-hour days filled with relentless pressure.
There were lonely weeks spent entirely away from Tyler.
There were dark, solitary moments where she genuinely questioned whether she had anything left inside to give.
When she finally stood on that massive stage in front of her distinguished peers and the American flag, she wanted more than almost anything in her life for her parents to be there.
They had explicitly promised her they would come to the graduation.
She foolishly believed them because some small, stubborn, broken part of her still had not learned the ultimate lesson.
She kept searching the massive crowd for their faces.
She kept staring at those two empty reserved seats throughout the entire lengthy ceremony.
She desperately told herself they were just running late due to heavy traffic or a sudden emergency.
There was no emergency.
Later that exact night, Megan sat alone in her living room still wearing her heavy dress blues.
Tyler had gone to the kitchen to make tea.
Megan opened her phone and saw Heather’s latest social media post.
It featured a massive balloon arch and a giant cake covered in thick white frosting.
Brenda was holding Heather’s small dog in her arms like a precious newborn baby.
Greg was standing in the background laughing warmly.
The caption proudly declared it the best birthday ever.
The timestamp on the bright photo matched the exact hour Megan was receiving her hard-earned diploma.
They had skipped their daughter’s major military graduation to attend a dog’s birthday party.
Megan did not shed a single tear that night.
She did not call them to scream, cry, or demand any sort of emotional explanation.
She did something much quieter and far more permanent.
She picked up her phone and systematically blocked every single number associated with her family.
She blocked their calls, their emails, and their social media profiles.
She initiated complete and total silence on her end.
She built a sturdy, invisible wall around her life with Tyler.
Five peaceful years passed in that absolute silence.
Then her phone suddenly rang on a random Tuesday afternoon.
A number she had not seen in half a decade lit up her bright screen.
It was Brian, her father’s longtime corporate attorney.
Megan almost let it ring through to voicemail.
Some exhausted part of her desperately wanted to let it fade away the exact same way she had let five years of holidays fade away.
But an instinctual feeling of caution made her answer the call.
Brian’s voice was careful and almost apologetic.
He told her that her father desperately needed one simple signature on a legal document.
Megan coldly told him that Greg had lost the privilege of asking for favors five years ago.
Brian paused for a very long time before quietly begging her to just hear him out.
Brian had known Greg for over twenty years.
In all that time, Brian had never once called Megan directly for any reason.
Every previous interaction had been filtered entirely through Greg as a formal business contact.
When Brian asked if he could drive out to her house in person to talk, Megan felt a strange shift in her chest.
It was not hope, but rather a deep tactical curiosity.
She agreed to the meeting before she could talk herself out of it.
Brian arrived on a Saturday afternoon in late spring.
He drove a dark, expensive sedan that looked completely out of place on her quiet, modest street.
The driveways on her block were cracked and the wooden fences leaned slightly from years of harsh weather.
Megan watched him through the front window as he parked and nervously straightened his suit jacket.
Tyler was outside in the yard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He was replacing a wooden fence post that had completely rotted through over the brutal winter.
Tyler wiped the dirt from his hands onto his jeans and shook Brian’s hand with completely natural, easy warmth.
It was the exact same warmth that had once made Greg sneer with profound disdain.
Brian shook Tyler’s hand back, and Megan saw a flicker of quiet observation cross the lawyer’s face.
It looked like Brian was quietly recalibrating something he had falsely believed for a very long time.
They sat at the small kitchen table Tyler had built himself the year they moved in.
Tyler had sanded and stained the wood on weekends after long, exhausting days of teaching history.
Megan served simple coffee from their regular morning pot.
Brian looked around the small kitchen at the casual photos on the refrigerator and the lived-in comfort of the home.
He told them they had a very nice life.
Megan simply agreed that it was entirely theirs.
Brian nodded slowly before reaching into his leather briefcase.
He pulled out a thick, heavy document packet that immediately made Megan’s stomach tighten defensively.
He slid it across the wooden table toward her.
He claimed Greg simply needed her signature to update some minor estate matters regarding her grandfather’s old trust.
He insisted it was merely a routine formality.
Megan’s intense military training had taught her to read everything incredibly carefully.
She had spent years catching tiny details that others routinely missed on supply manifests and altered training reports.
The army taught her that the absolute difference between disaster and safety was often buried in a single overlooked line of text.
When she opened the thick folder, she was not reading it the way her arrogant father assumed she would.
He expected the compliant daughter who used to accept whatever he handed her without a single question.
He did not realize that specific daughter had completely ceased to exist five years ago.
The legal language was incredibly dense and deliberately filled with confusing phrasing designed to completely discourage careful reading.
There were vague references to a waiver of beneficiary interest and a restructuring of distributive shares.
The clauses seemed to constantly circle around each other without ever plainly stating what they actually meant.
Megan read one dense paragraph three times and still could not translate it into plain English.
Brian sat across from her, his fingers tapping a small, unconscious rhythm of deep impatience against his coffee cup.
The more Megan read, the more her sharp instincts warned her this was absolutely no simple formality.
She found a buried section on the fourth page discussing an adjustment to primary distribution percentages.
The language seemed designed to shift significant financial weight away from equal shares.
The document intentionally avoided plainly stating whose shares were being shifted.
It was written entirely on the assumption that she would simply trust the process and trust her father.
Megan looked up at Brian and pointed out that her grandfather had established this trust, not her father.
Brian confirmed that Greg had simply managed it on behalf of the beneficiaries since the grandfather’s passing.
Megan pointedly repeated the word managed, emphasizing that it did not mean owned.
She asked why Greg needed her specific signature to change the distribution if he had no authority to change it in the first place.
Brian paused slightly too long before claiming there were provisions that allowed for adjustment with beneficiary consent.
Megan asked exactly whose consent was required.
Brian’s heavy silence answered the crucial question far better than any spoken words could have.
Megan closed the heavy folder slowly and deliberately slid it back across the table.
She told Brian she was absolutely not signing the document.
Brian pleaded that there was extreme time sensitivity involved and Greg wanted it resolved quickly.
Megan understood perfectly that someone desperately wanted it signed fast before she had the chance to look too closely at the details.
She recognized the manufactured urgency as a classic tactical pressure maneuver.
She coldly informed Brian that she would have her own attorney read every single word before she ever signed anything.
For the very first time since he had walked through her door, Brian looked genuinely caught completely off guard.
The idea that she might simply refuse to comply had never even occurred to him or to the arrogant man who had sent him.
Megan found her own aggressive attorney within a week.
Her name was Sarah, a sharp, highly methodical woman who had handled vicious estate disputes for over fifteen years.
Sarah possessed the kind of quiet, imposing confidence that made you trust her within the first five minutes of conversation.
Megan handed her the confusing folder Brian had left behind and explained the entire timeline and the pressure tactics.
Sarah spent four days digging relentlessly into the trust’s complete history.
She called Megan while Megan was standing in her kitchen holding a damp dish towel.
Sarah’s tone was incredibly serious as she told Megan to sit down.
Sarah explained that the grandfather had established the massive trust thirty years ago with very specific structures.
He had set aside a significant portion of his wealth explicitly for his grandchildren, splitting it perfectly evenly between Megan and Heather.
Greg had only been named the trustee responsible for managing the assets responsibly until certain conditions were met.
However, management absolutely did not equal ownership.
Greg had total discretion over investment decisions within very narrow guidelines, but he absolutely lacked the authority to unilaterally change the division.
The document Brian had brought was a completely voluntary waiver.
Greg was trying to trick Megan into voluntarily signing away a massive portion of her own inheritance.
He wanted to aggressively restructure the split so Heather would receive the overwhelming majority of the trust’s total value.
Megan sat in her kitchen chair and felt a strange, cold clarity completely wash over her.
She realized Greg needed her signature because the original trust explicitly protected the equal division unless both beneficiaries agreed otherwise in writing.
Greg could not simply decide to give Heather more money on his own.
He had manufactured the confusing document and applied intense time pressure to obscure exactly what she was giving up.
Megan thought about the participation ribbons, the lavish parties, and the dog’s birthday cake with white frosting.
She thought about every single quiet moment over thirty-six years where she had been repeatedly told she mattered less.
This deceptive contract was simply the largest, most consequential version of a terrible pattern she had endured her entire life.
She did not feel devastated or heartbroken by the ultimate betrayal.
She felt entirely calm because she finally understood exactly what her father truly feared.
He was terrified of her finally saying no.
He desperately needed her blind compliance and her old, broken habit of trusting him.
Sarah asked Megan exactly what she wanted to do moving forward.
Megan thought about the two empty seats at her military graduation and the quiet, steady life she had built with Tyler.
She told Sarah they were not going to sign a single page.
They were going to hold out and watch exactly how desperate her father would become.
Sarah agreed with a tone of deep, professional respect.
The tactical waiting game began.
Three days later, Greg’s blocked number lit up Megan’s phone four times in a single afternoon.
He sent demanding, clipped text messages trying to summon her to discuss the paperwork.
Megan ignored every single notification, noticing with detached amusement how familiar it felt to be summoned like a subordinate.
By the end of the week, the messages grew significantly longer and far more urgent.
Brenda started leaving nervous voicemails about the absolute importance of family unity.
Heather bombarded Megan with texts accusing her of being incredibly selfish and trying to steal the grandfather’s money.
Megan maintained complete radio silence, knowing that responding would only open a door she preferred to keep permanently bolted shut.
Greg eventually escalated the situation exactly as Megan expected.
He hired a completely separate, highly aggressive law firm to attack the problem.
He filed dense legal motions questioning the validity of Megan’s refusal and arguing that the grandfather’s intent had been widely misinterpreted.
He was clearly hoping the immense cost and extreme stress of litigation would force Megan to simply fold before reaching a judge.
He fundamentally misunderstood that Megan had spent her entire adult career training for exactly this kind of intense pressure.
Long military deployments had taught her how to function with perfect clarity when everything around her was designed to induce total panic.
Sarah countered every single motion with the plain, undeniable language of the original trust.
During the discovery phase, Sarah’s team subpoenaed the comprehensive financial statements.
They found glaring, undeniable discrepancies in the management fees Greg had been quietly drawing for years.
He had been systematically taking significantly more money than the trust’s strict guidelines allowed.
That specific financial discovery instantly changed the entire battlefield.
Brian called Megan directly, his voice sounding incredibly tired and deeply defeated.
The smooth, professional confidence he normally projected was completely gone.
He asked Megan if she had known about the fee discrepancies before the legal fight started.
Megan honestly told him her attorney had just found them during routine discovery.
Brian admitted that he had blindly trusted Greg’s account of things when the process began.
He confessed that Greg had specifically asked him to draft complex language to heavily obscure the redistribution clause.
Greg had wanted it to be completely impossible to detect on a casual read.
Brian stated that he had never once drafted a document meant to intentionally deceive a client’s own daughter.
He formally told Megan he was reconsidering his entire position on the matter.
Megan thanked him for his honesty, realizing that Brian was merely a man who had trusted the wrong person for decades.
The final, decisive negotiation meeting was scheduled for a Thursday morning.
Greg insisted it be held in a massive conference room on the fourteenth floor of Brian’s building.
He desperately wanted the distinct home field advantage of a polished mahogany table and a sweeping view of the city skyline.
He wanted to perform the ultimate illusion of total power that had always been his preferred language.
Greg arrived exactly on time, dressed impeccably in a sharp suit, carrying himself with deep arrogance.
Heather sat beside him with her arms crossed defensively, completely refusing to look directly at Megan.
Brenda was noticeably absent, having chosen once again to completely remove herself from any uncomfortable family conflict.
Brian sat at the head of the long table, looking incredibly quiet and highly careful.
He barely made eye contact with Greg, signaling that their twenty-year loyalty had completely eroded.
Greg opened the tense meeting with supreme confidence, certain his mere presence would tilt the room in his favor.
He slid a newly revised trust document across the table toward Megan.
He confidently claimed his team had drafted a fair, reasonable compromise for everyone involved.
Megan picked it up and began reading it while Sarah watched quietly beside her.
The document was wrapped in much softer legal language, but the underlying structure remained exactly the same.
It was still a blatant redistribution of wealth favoring Heather.
However, Greg had been completely unable to resist adding one massive new layer of protection for himself.
He had secretly inserted a clause granting himself continued, permanent authority over distribution timing and asset management decisions.
He wanted to keep his hand firmly on the massive trust indefinitely, regardless of what happened between the two sisters.
Megan read the newly added clause once, and then read it again much more slowly.
She cross-referenced it silently against the exact wording of the original document her grandfather had written decades earlier.
The realization hit her with the force of a physical blow.
She leaned back in her heavy leather chair and began to laugh uncontrollably.
It was a real, deep laugh that caught everyone in the quiet room completely by surprise.
Brian sat up completely straight, and Greg’s jaw tightened visibly with sudden, sharp anger.
Brian asked with genuine confusion if he had missed something important.
Megan turned the folder around and slid it across the mahogany table directly toward Brian.
She tapped the new clause with her index finger, still fighting to steady her own breathing.
She asked Brian if Greg had written that exact language himself.
Brian read the clause carefully, his eyes darting across the page as the realization finally struck him.
His shoulders dropped slightly, and his mouth opened in pure shock.
In his greedy eagerness to secure permanent, unyielding control over the trust, Greg had made a fatal error.
He had added a clause granting himself ongoing management authority that directly contradicted an ironclad provision in the original document.
The grandfather’s trust explicitly stated that any attempt by the trustee to grant themselves authority beyond basic distribution execution would immediately void their role entirely.
It would instantly trigger an immediate, full distribution to the beneficiaries under the original, equal terms.
Greg had not just failed to steal Megan’s share of the money.
He had accidentally triggered the exact legal trap that guaranteed Megan would receive her full original share immediately with absolutely no further involvement from him.
By trying to secure permanent control, Greg had legally fired himself and completely restored the trust to equal division.
Brian set the document down incredibly slowly, his face draining of all color.
He quietly muttered that Greg was not getting any of it anymore.
Greg frantically snatched the document back and scanned it with wide, panicked eyes.
His carefully maintained composure completely shattered into a million jagged pieces.
He stammered that it was merely a simple clerical error and not what he truly intended.
Brian firmly stated that it was exactly what Greg had written.
Brian reminded Greg that he had explicitly warned him not to add any clauses without legal review, but Greg had arrogantly insisted on handling it himself.
Heather looked frantically between the two older men, completely utterly lost, waiting for someone to explain how they had lost everything so quickly.
Greg sat frozen in his expensive chair, his hands shaking violently as he held the useless folder.
He had been entirely undone by his own endless greed and his utter inability to simply let things stay equal.
Megan sat back and felt a deep, profound sense of quiet satisfaction settle perfectly inside her chest.
The presiding judge formally finalized the immediate equal distribution exactly six weeks later.
The legal process happened quietly, without the massive drama that had defined the rest of the conflict.
Greg’s newly added clause was ruled a fatal, self-inflicted legal error.
The court upheld the grandfather’s original intent without a single moment of hesitation.
There was absolutely no trustee discretion left for Greg to ever exercise again.
He had lost complete control of the situation and the money forever.
Megan realized she did not feel the loud, triumphant vindication she had once expected.
Watching her father lose everything he valued simply felt small and entirely anticlimactic.
He was no longer a terrifying villain in her life story.
He was simply a tired, arrogant older man who had spent his entire life completely mistaking control for genuine love.
Heather called Megan once about a month after the final legal dust settled.
Her voice was much quieter and far less certain of itself than it had ever been.
She did not offer a full apology, but she admitted she had never actually built anything for herself.
She confessed she was terrified now that the massive financial safety net had permanently vanished.
Megan listened quietly without offering immediate forgiveness, but she also chose not to hang up the phone.
She realized that some old doors did not need to be slammed entirely shut forever.
They could simply be left slightly ajar for whatever future version of a relationship might eventually develop.
Greg practically begged to meet with Megan twice after the final court ruling.
Megan politely declined both requests, not out of cruelty or lingering anger.
She declined because she finally understood that finding true closure did not always require a final conversation.
Sometimes closure simply required the conscious decision to completely stop waiting for one.
With her massive share of the trust finally distributed exactly as her grandfather intended, Megan made choices that reflected her true values.
She established a large, permanent scholarship fund specifically for the children of active-duty military service members.
She wanted to help the kids who were constantly forced to move and rebuild their entire lives without ever being asked what they actually wanted.
She generously contributed to a program supporting families who had lost a loved one in military service.
Because Tyler had spent over a decade pouring his entire soul into a noble profession that paid far less than he deserved, she donated a significant portion toward teacher training programs.
She wanted to celebrate the quiet, completely unglamorous work of shaping young minds that society so rarely acknowledged.
None of her generous choices were about proving anything to her father anymore.
The broken part of her that desperately hoped her achievements might finally earn his elusive approval had completely died five years ago.
She was simply extending the beautiful, steady life she and Tyler had already created together.
Megan stood in her quiet backyard with Tyler the evening after the final legal paperwork was officially signed.
There was absolutely nothing dramatic about the peaceful moment.
They simply stood together in the fading golden light of the evening.
The sturdy wooden fence Tyler had repaired stood strong and steady directly behind them.
A simple cup of coffee radiated a comforting warmth against Megan’s palms.
They had no massive mansion and no extravagant, superficial dinner parties.
They merely had the quiet, incredibly ordinary peace they had built entirely for themselves, brick by careful brick.
Tyler looked at her carefully, exactly the way he always did, and gently asked if she was okay.
Megan smiled and told him she was incredibly good.
For the very first time in longer than she could ever remember, she meant it completely and without reservation.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
