Chapter 10 - The Secret Between Our Fathers
My father had been dead for eleven years.
I had spent most of my life believing he had nothing to do with the Ashbys before I married Conrad.
Howard's letter said otherwise.
Twenty-seven years earlier, my father, Samuel Bennett, worked as an accountant for an agricultural investment company partly owned by Howard.
The company collapsed.
Investors lost millions.
Howard blamed my father.
According to family legend, Samuel had falsified financial reports, hidden losses, then disappeared before federal investigators could question him.
None of that matched the father I knew.
My father had been a public-school math teacher for most of my childhood.
Quiet.
Careful.
Almost painfully honest.
Conrad read the letter beside me.
"Did you know he worked in finance?"
"Before I was born."
That was all my mother ever said.
Howard believed I had deliberately pursued Conrad as revenge.
It explained why he distrusted me from the beginning.
But there was another document in the box.
A twenty-seven-year-old audit.
The original.
Not the version submitted to investors.
My father hadn't falsified the books.
He had discovered someone else had.
Howard.
The company was already failing because Howard diverted millions to cover losses in another venture.
Samuel found the transfers and threatened to expose him.
Howard responded by framing him.
He used internal records to make it appear Samuel had authorized the missing transactions.
My father resigned.
But instead of fighting publicly, he signed a confidential settlement.
I stared at the signature.
"Why would he agree?"
Conrad turned the page.
The answer was there.
My mother had been pregnant with me.
Howard threatened to bury my father in litigation until our family had nothing left.
Samuel chose silence.
My entire childhood had been shaped by that silence.
We weren't poor, but money was always tight.
My father never returned to corporate finance.
He taught algebra.
Coached high-school baseball.
Died without ever telling me that one of the most powerful businessmen in Montana had destroyed his career.
Conrad looked devastated.
"So my father hated you because your father knew the truth about him."
"Yes."
Howard had convinced himself that our marriage was a trap.
When I became pregnant, his paranoia deepened.
He believed four Ashby grandchildren tied to Samuel Bennett's daughter could someday uncover the old financial scandal and threaten the family empire.
So he separated us.
Not for money.
Not just for control.
For fear.
But Howard's confession contained one final request.
I have restored what I took.
Conrad and I looked at each other.
"Restored?"
We opened the financial box.
Four new accounts existed.
Created eighteen months earlier.
Each contained more than the original $250,000.
The stolen money had been returned with decades of projected growth.
$812,000 for each child.
More than $3.2 million total.
I stared at the figures.
Conrad shook his head.
"He thought he could fix it with money."
"No."
I pointed to the next document.
Howard had transferred the funds into an irrevocable trust.
Neither Conrad nor Margaret could touch them.
Only the children, when they reached adulthood.
For once, Howard had used control to protect instead of destroy.
But something else was missing.
The video camera.
Conrad turned it on.
There was one recording.
Howard appeared on screen.
Thin.
Older.
Clearly ill.
He stared directly into the camera.
"My name is Howard Ashby, and if my son is watching this, then Cecily has probably returned to his life."
He coughed.
Then spoke again.
"Conrad, there is no version of this story in which I am the only person you should blame."
Conrad stiffened.
Howard continued.
"I lied to you."
A pause.
"But you believed me because part of you wanted permission to run."
Conrad closed his eyes.
Howard's voice remained steady.
"You were afraid of becoming a father."
May you like
I turned toward Conrad.
His face said Howard had struck the one secret he never wanted spoken aloud.
