Chapter 10 - THE ACCOUNT UNDER MY MOTHER’S NAME
The account belonged to a trust.
Not my mother personally.
A small Wycliffe family trust created when I was a child.
My mother had been custodian.
After her death, the trust should have transferred to me.
It did not.
Because the balance was supposedly zero.
Except Grant’s $12,000 repayment had gone there years later.
Then more money followed.
Small amounts.
Consulting reimbursements.
Expense repayments.
A dividend.
Total:
$186,000.
I had never received any of it.
Arthur looked furious.
“This predates Margaret’s inheritance.”
“Yes.”
So the mysterious account was not Grant’s scheme.
At least not entirely.
We traced management.
Custodian after my mother’s death:
Gerald Wycliffe.
My mother’s cousin.
A family solicitor.
He had died three years ago.
His firm had merged twice.
Records were scattered.
Then came the surprising part.
Gerald had invested the money.
Extremely well.
The old trust now held nearly $1.4 million.
My money.
Forgotten.
Untouched.
Grant’s original repayment was there too.
The founder advance technically had been repaid.
But not to me directly.
That complicated my equity claim.
Arthur smiled.
“Grant will love this.”
I did not.
I wanted accuracy.
If Grant had repaid the debt properly under the information available to him, I could not pretend otherwise because I disliked him.
So my attorneys adjusted the claim.
The automatic equity conversion might no longer apply.
Grant could regain breathing room.
When I told Arthur to notify Whitmore counsel, he looked at me.
“You realize this helps him.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because now nobody can say this is revenge.”
That mattered.
Then the trust records revealed something else.
My unpaid consulting work for Holloway had sometimes been reimbursed into that same trust.
Who directed it?
Grant’s original bookkeeper.
Name:
Helen Marcus.
The same retired paralegal whose name appeared as notary on the forged waiver.
My pulse changed.
Helen had known about the old family account.
Helen had handled founder records.
Helen later appeared on the suspicious waiver.
We found her in Connecticut.
Seventy-one.
Retired.
Widowed.
She agreed to speak through counsel.
“I never notarized Charlotte’s waiver,” she said immediately.
“Your seal appears.”
“My old seal.”
“Who had access?”
She looked ashamed.
“Grant’s legal department kept it after I retired.”
Improper.
Maybe worse.
“Did you know my founder advance was repaid into the trust?”
“Yes.”
“Why not tell me?”
“I thought you knew.”
Reasonable.
Then:
“Who created the waiver?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you saw it?”
“After the gala news, yes.”
She leaned closer to the camera.
“That template came from Madison’s father’s firm.”
I went still.
“Vale Capital?”
“No. Their legal affiliate.”
Arthur frowned.
“Why would Harrison Vale’s lawyers prepare Charlotte’s waiver?”
Helen shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then she said something even stranger.
“The first draft was created before Grant and Madison officially started dating.”
My stomach tightened.
How far back did this merger go?
May you like
Maybe Madison had not simply replaced me after the marriage failed.
Maybe the Vale family had been positioning itself inside Holloway Urban long before I knew anything was wrong.
