The Will Was a Lie: Old Money Season 2 Trailer Just Torched the Dynasty’s Last Sacred Truth

That’s how long into Netflix’s newly dropped Old Money Season 2 trailer before a single sheet of cream-colored stationery—embossed with the Soykan family crest—flutters from a trembling hand and lands face-up on a marble floor. The camera lingers just long enough for viewers to read the damning line scrawled in fountain-pen ink:

“I leave everything… to the child no one was ever meant to know about.”

Cue the scream that launched a million screenshots.

What follows is two minutes of pure, uncut chaos: a forged will, a vanished ledger worth hundreds of millions, and an accusation so radioactive it could vaporize three centuries of carefully curated wealth. The official trailer—released at 3 p.m. Istanbul time, midnight Pacific—has already racked up 28 million views, shattered X’s trending algorithm, and turned #SoykanScandal into the fastest-rising hashtag in Netflix history. And the release date? March 15, 2026. Circle it in blood-red ink, because nothing will ever be the same.

At the eye of this hurricane stands Emily Davenport—yes, that Davenport—the porcelain-skinned heiress whose Season 1 arc had us rooting for her to burn the whole system down while wearing couture. Played by Hazal Kaya in a performance that’s already being whispered about in the same breath as Zendaya’s Rue or Sarah Snook’s Shiv, Emily was the outsider who married into the Soykan empire and discovered that love in this world comes with a prenup written in disappearing ink. Season 1 ended with her clutching a positive pregnancy test on a moonlit terrace while the family estate burned—figuratively—in the background. Season 2 begins with her realizing the fire was just the kindling.

The trailer wastes no time detonating its first bomb. We open on the reading of the late Matthew Sinclair Soykan’s “final” will in the mahogany-paneled study that’s basically the Vatican of old money. The family lawyer—sweating through a $15,000 suit—unfurls a document that no one has seen before. Not the children. Not the widow. Not even the ancient retainer who’s been polishing the same silver since the fall of the Ottoman Empire. The new will cuts out every legitimate heir and redirects the bulk of the fortune to a mysterious trust controlled by… someone whose name makes Nihal Soykan (Aslı Enver, eyes like daggers) actually gasp on camera.

Cut to Emily, six months pregnant and wrapped in a black cashmere coat that costs more than most people’s rent, storming into the family vault with a crowbar and a death wish. She’s looking for the original ledger—the handwritten, leather-bound bible that records every dirty lira the Soykans ever made. It’s gone. Vanished. And in its place? A single Post-it note stuck to the empty shelf: “Some debts are paid in blood, not gold.”

Cue the montage from hell.

Alexander Soykan (Engin Akyürek, looking like he hasn’t slept since 2023) smashing a $200,000 vase while screaming, “He changed it the night he died—someone was in this house!”
Isabella Soykan (Hande Erçel, trading champagne flutes for switchblades) discovering her trust fund has been drained overnight and whispering, “I’ll find who did this if I have to sell my own kidney on the dark web.”
Cousin Theo (Kerem Bürsin, smirking like the devil just promoted him) meeting a hooded figure in an underground parking garage, sliding over an envelope thick with cash and murmuring, “Make sure the original never surfaces. Ever.”
And Emily—God, Emily—standing in the rain on the Bosphorus bridge, one hand cradling her belly, the other clutching a positive DNA test that proves the unthinkable: the secret heir mentioned in the forged will… is her unborn child.

Yes, you read that right. The baby everyone assumed was Alexander’s? Turns out Matthew Sinclair had one last affair, one last power play, one last middle finger from beyond the grave. The trailer doesn’t confirm it outright—Old Money loves to make you choke on your own theories—but the implication is a guillotine blade hovering over every inheritance in Istanbul.

The accusation comes in the trailer’s final 20 seconds, delivered by a new character who’s already broken the internet: Detective Defne Kara (played by Turkish cinema legend Demet Özdemir, making her streaming debut and serving looks that could stop traffic on the E-5). She strides into the Soykan drawing room like she owns it, slaps crime-scene photos on the antique table, and says the line that will be meme’d into oblivion:

“One of you forged a dying man’s will. One of you stole a ledger worth nations. And one of you… made sure Matthew Sinclair never left that hospital bed alive.”

The screen smash-cuts to black on Emily’s face—tears mixing with rain—as she whispers to her belly: “I will burn this entire empire to keep you safe.”

If your pulse isn’t racing, check for a pulse.

The returning cast has never been sharper. Aslı Enver’s Nihal has traded diplomatic smiles for the cold calculation of a woman who realizes her entire identity was a lie scripted by a dead man. Engin Akyürek lets Alexander’s golden-boy mask crack wide open, revealing the rage of someone who was promised the world and handed a forgery. Hande Erçel’s Isabella finally gets to weaponize the chaos she’s been flirting with for years—think Margot Robbie in The Wolf of Wall Street, but with better cheekbones and worse intentions. And Hazal Kaya? She’s operating on a different plane entirely. Early reviewers who’ve seen the first three episodes are calling her work “a masterclass in controlled devastation.” One wrote: “Kaya doesn’t act pregnant—she acts like a woman carrying the detonation code to her own legacy.”

Behind the camera, showrunner Meriç Acemi has leveled up from merely vicious to outright surgical. The trailer’s editing—those whip-pans from gilded ballrooms to autopsy slabs, from private-jet interiors to evidence lockers—feels like a panic attack in 4K. The score, now laced with distorted Ottoman marches and trap 808s, sounds like money screaming. And the locations? They shot inside the actual vaults of a 400-year-old Ottoman bank for the ledger scenes. Rumor has it the production paid more for three days of access than most Turkish films make in their entire run.

But let’s be brutally honest: this isn’t just television. It’s a cultural Molotov cocktail. In a country where family conglomerates still control everything from newspapers to natural gas pipelines, Old Money has spent two seasons daring to ask the question no one says out loud: What if the sacred “aile şirketi” (family company) is just a fancy term for generational organized crime? The forged will storyline isn’t fiction—it’s practically ripped from the headlines of every Turkish business magazine that’s ever run a cover line reading “Who Gets the Empire When Baba Dies?”

And Emily Davenport’s choice—love or legacy?—is the brutal little mirror the show holds up to every viewer with a trust fund, a prenup, or even just a rich uncle. Do you protect the man you love, even if he might be a murderer? Do you shield the child in your womb, even if claiming its birthright means annihilating the only family you’ve ever known? The trailer ends with Emily standing in the family portrait gallery, staring up at centuries of oil-painted Soykans, and slowly raising a can of red paint. Smash cut to black before we see what she does next.

March 15, 2026, cannot come fast enough—and yet we’re all terrified of what happens when it does.

The ledger is missing. The will is a lie. The heiress is pregnant with the apocalypse.

And every single member of this family now has to decide: protect the fortune… or survive the truth.

Your move, Soykans.