Chapter 2 - THE COMPENSATION PACKAGE THAT NEVER EXISTED
At six the next morning, I stepped outside and called Attorney Rebecca Sloan.
She had helped one of my coworkers recover wages after a contractor collapsed.
I explained the transfers.
The house.
The missing money.
And Gwen’s condition.
Rebecca did not interrupt.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Did you ever authorize your mother to spend the funds for personal purposes?”
“No.”
“Do you have messages describing the intended use?”
“Every transfer included a note.”
HOUSE FUND.
GWEN MEDICAL.
FUTURE SAVINGS.
Rebecca asked me to forward everything.
Within an hour, she had created a preservation request for the bank records.
She also contacted a forensic accountant named Marcus Hill.
My next call went to Dr. Elena Foster, an oncologist recommended by the cancer clinic that performed Gwen’s biopsy.
The clinic had tried to contact Gwen for follow-up treatment.
Margaret had intercepted two letters.
The cancer had likely progressed while my wife was being denied care.
Dr. Foster agreed to see her that afternoon.
I needed to remove Gwen from the house without alerting my family.
So at breakfast, I expanded the lie.
“The company representative arrives Friday,” I said.
“He’ll verify the property and meet everyone involved in managing my money.”
Margaret straightened proudly.
“I handled everything.”
“That’s why I need you here.”
Paige leaned forward.
“Will the shares be transferable?”
“Possibly.”
Her eyes lit up.
I told them the package might increase if I could prove the household had invested more than one hundred thousand dollars.
They began gathering documents immediately.
Receipts.
Titles.
Loan papers.
Bank statements.
They believed they were proving wealth.
In reality, they were organizing evidence.
Margaret placed a folder on the dining table.
Inside was the deed to the house.
The purchase price had been three hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
The down payment came directly from my transfers.
Yet the property was titled solely to Margaret and Paige.
The truck had been purchased with another forty-eight thousand.
Jewelry receipts exceeded thirty thousand.
A cosmetic surgery invoice carried Paige’s name.
There were vacations.
Restaurant bills.
Designer furniture.
Almost nothing had been spent on Gwen.
Then I found a handwritten ledger.
Margaret had recorded every transfer from me.
Beside the amounts were notes.
Gavin thinks this is for construction.
Tell Gwen the money was delayed.
Do not let her see the account.
My mother had not misunderstood.
She had documented the theft.
That afternoon, I told them I was taking Gwen to sign compensation paperwork.
Instead, I drove her to the oncology center.
Tests began immediately.
The tumor had spread to nearby lymph nodes.
Treatment was still possible.
But the delay had made everything more dangerous.
Gwen sat beside me after the consultation.
“I should have found another way to reach you.”
“No.”
“They isolated you.”
“I believed them when they said you knew.”
The words cut deeply.
Margaret told Gwen I had become tired of supporting her.
Paige claimed I was living with another woman in Canada.
They showed her edited photographs from social media.
They said the money I sent belonged to the entire family, not to her.
Abuse had been built from false information on both sides.
When we returned, Margaret was waiting at the gate.
“You were gone too long.”
“Medical forms,” I said.
She looked at Gwen suspiciously.
Then she smiled.
“Friday will change everything.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the house my labor had purchased.
“Friday will change everything.”
That night, Marcus Hill called.
He had traced the money.
More than forty thousand dollars had been transferred from Margaret’s account to a private clinic.
At first, I thought she had secretly paid for Gwen’s treatment.
Then Marcus gave me the patient’s name.
It was not Gwen.
May you like
It was Paige.
And the clinic specialized in fertility procedures.
