Chapter 7 - THE MOTHER WHO KNEW EVERYTHING
Garrick called me seventeen times that day.
I answered none of them.
But Abigail answered his attorney.
By sunset, Garrick had learned three things.
The house belonged to my trust.
The lender was investigating his collateral documents.
And every dollar transferred from my inheritance was being traced.
Eleanor learned something too.
Her son had saved himself first.
When Garrick’s attorney sent an initial response, it blamed “financial decisions undertaken primarily by Mrs. Eleanor Sterling.”
Abigail read the sentence twice.
“He’s throwing his mother under the bus.”
I stared at her.
“Already?”
“People reveal themselves very quickly when the money disappears.”
Marcus arrived with another file.
He had traced the mysterious ELS Consulting payments.
Some went to Eleanor’s personal expenses.
Designer stores.
A country club.
Luxury spa memberships.
But $214,000 had gone somewhere else.
A private account in the Cayman Islands.
“I thought offshore accounts were impossible to trace.”
“They’re difficult,” Marcus said. “Not invisible.”
Abigail flipped through the pages.
“Who opened it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
My phone buzzed.
A voicemail from Garrick.
I played it once.
Clara, please. Mom handled the paperwork. I didn’t know what she was doing. I know I screwed up going to Cancún, but we can fix this. I want to meet my daughter.
I almost believed the fear in his voice.
Almost.
Then Marcus placed one final document on the table.
A bank authorization.
The Cayman account required two signatures for major withdrawals.
One belonged to Eleanor.
The second belonged to Garrick.
I closed my eyes.
So much for not knowing.
“How much is in there?” I asked.
Marcus hesitated.
“Just over $600,000.”
“From my trust?”
“Mostly.”
Abigail leaned back.
“That’s enough.”
“For what?”
“For us to amend the filing.”
My stomach tightened.
“Criminal?”
“Potentially. That’s not our decision. But the evidence goes where it needs to go.”
That evening Garrick finally sent a picture instead of a message.
It showed the inside of a storage unit.
Rows of dealership records.
Bankers’ boxes.
Old contracts.
And beneath the photo were seven words:
Mom kept records I never knew existed.
May you like
Then he added:
Clara, your father’s name is on them.
