Sealed while you're here.
Released only on your terms.
This page is the whole mechanism, drawn once. Nothing in it requires trust in us — at every step, the math does the guarding.
This page is the whole mechanism, drawn once. Nothing in it requires trust in us — at every step, the math does the guarding.
You add entries the way you'd fill a good notebook: the Chase login next to the advisor's name, the deed next to where the signed original sits, the seed phrase split the way you actually split it. Each entry is encrypted on your device with a key derived from your passphrase — before any network is involved.
A guided first session walks you through the ten things a family needs first: primary email, banking, phone unlock plan, insurance, the will's location. Twenty minutes, honestly spent.
Every entry carries its own instruction: finances to your spouse, the will to your executor, one sealed letter to a friend who'll know why. Assignments are part of the encrypted record — we can't see who you named any more than we can see what you stored.
Nobody is contacted when you name them. Beneficiaries learn they were chosen only if release ever happens — or when you decide to tell them yourself.
You choose the trigger: a verified death record, or scheduled check-ins you stop answering. Either way a waiting period you set — thirty days by default — stands between the trigger and any delivery, and a single tap from you cancels the whole sequence.
Only after the wait clears are your beneficiaries invited in, each to exactly the entries carrying their name. Not the whole vault. Not each other's letters.
A death record is verified, or the final scheduled check-in goes unanswered.
We attempt every contact channel you gave us. One reply from you stops everything.
Each beneficiary verifies their identity and receives their key share — never ours to hold alone.
They decrypt what carries their name: accounts labeled, deed located, your letter on top.