Chapter 3 - THE MONEY HIS FATHER GAVE HIM
Paul looked physically ill.
“I did not know Tessa hadn’t approved it.”
Gavin laughed bitterly.
“Dad, don’t start.”
“Start?”
Paul stepped toward him.
“You told me the house transfer was agreed.”
“It was going to be.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Gavin looked around as though every person had suddenly betrayed him.
Interesting.
People who deceive often interpret consequences as disloyalty.
Paul had loaned Gavin four hundred thousand dollars eight months earlier.
Gavin told him we were consolidating assets before the baby arrived.
He said the house would become part of the LLC.
He said I wanted the structure because pregnancy had made me “more conservative.”
I actually laughed.
My mother did not.
“What did he use the money for?”
Paul looked at Gavin.
“I don’t know.”
Rachel did.
She had traced some of it.
One hundred twenty thousand went toward the deposit on the lake house.
Another ninety thousand entered Gavin’s consulting business.
Fifty thousand paid credit-card balances.
Then transfers became harder to follow.
“Consulting business?” I asked.
Gavin had always told me his side work was minor.
A few clients.
Nothing serious.
Rachel opened another document.
HARTWELL ADVISORY LLC.
Gavin owned it.
Maren was listed as authorized administrator.
My best friend.
Authorized administrator.
“How long?”
“Fourteen months,” Rachel said.
My ears rang.
The affair might have been younger than their financial partnership.
Maren stood suddenly.
“I didn’t know everything.”
Gavin looked furious.
“Sit down.”
She turned toward him.
“No.”
The first crack.
Maybe not redemption.
Just fear.
“I handled invoices,” she said. “He told me it was because Tessa hated paperwork.”
I stared at her.
“You knew I worked in corporate compliance before I got pregnant.”
She looked away.
Exactly.
Before maternity leave, I had spent seven years reviewing contracts for a healthcare company.
I did not hate paperwork.
Gavin simply needed Maren to believe I did.
Rachel continued.
Hartwell Advisory had billed three clients for “property strategy.”
One was a developer.
One a restaurant group.
The third:
Hawthorne Children’s Medical Foundation.
My mother frowned.
“That sounds familiar.”
It was.
Hawthorne operated the private obstetric clinic where I received prenatal care.
I felt cold.
“Why is Gavin consulting for my clinic?”
He answered too quickly.
“I’m not.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Then someone paid your company eighty-five thousand dollars last quarter.”
Maren went pale.
That reaction mattered more than Gavin’s denial.
I looked at her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Maren.”
“Tess…”
“What?”
She started crying again.
“I thought he told you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Told me what?”
Her voice dropped.
“About the insurance.”
I stared.
“What insurance?”
Gavin closed his eyes.
Too late.
Rachel immediately asked:
“What policy?”
Maren looked from him to me.
Then whispered:
“The one Gavin took out on Tessa after she got pregnant.”
No one moved.
My husband had purchased a life-insurance policy on me.
May you like
I had never signed an application.
And the death benefit was five million dollars.
