Chapter 12 - The Dead Sister’s Account
Rebecca Whitmore was not dead.
That revelation came at 6:14 the next morning.
Simone found a current passport record.
Rebecca Whitmore Lang.
Forty-one years old.
Living in Vermont.
Grant sat in Jonathan’s office staring at the photograph.
“My mother told everyone she died.”
“How?” I asked.
“Car accident in France.”
“No funeral?”
“She said Rebecca was cremated there.”
I could barely process it.
Elaine had erased her own daughter.
Why?
The answer called us.
Rebecca herself.
Simone had contacted an attorney listed on one of the shell-company records.
Less than an hour later, my phone rang from an unknown number.
“Is this Claire?”
“Yes.”
“This is Rebecca.”
Grant stood up so fast his chair hit the wall.
“Rebecca?”
Silence.
Then a woman began crying.
“Grant?”
His face collapsed.
He looked suddenly twelve years old.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“What did Mom do?”
Rebecca took a long breath.
“She told me you wanted nothing to do with me.”
Grant sat down.
Rebecca explained.
Twelve years earlier, she discovered Elaine diverting funds from the family estate.
She confronted her.
Elaine threatened to accuse her of theft.
Rebecca left.
Elaine told Grant she died.
Then apparently used Rebecca’s dormant identity information years later to build financial entities.
“I did not know about Hartcrest,” Rebecca said. “I did not receive that money.”
Simone asked, “Would you cooperate with a forensic review?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“There’s something you should know first.”
“What?”
“Dad knew.”
Grant looked up.
“Knew what?”
“That Mom was moving money.”
“Why didn’t he stop her?”
“He tried.”
Rebecca’s voice softened.
“That’s why he borrowed the four million.”
Grant frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“It wasn’t for him.”
The room went silent.
Rebecca continued.
“He borrowed it to cover losses she had already created. He was trying to keep the company from discovering what she had done.”
Grant pressed both palms to his eyes.
His father had died with everyone believing he was reckless.
Maybe he had been trying to protect his wife.
Maybe that protection had only made everything worse.
Rebecca said she possessed copies of old ledgers.
Elaine’s original transfers.
Fake consulting contracts.
Documents linking Hartcrest to multiple properties.
Then she added one final detail.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“I know your father’s name.”
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“Because he helped my father.”
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“How?”
“Edward Morgan discovered one of Mom’s shell companies through the property trust.”
Everything circled back to Dad.
Again.
Rebecca continued.
“Your father told mine that Elaine was trying to take control of the Belle & Vale building.”
“Did they work together?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
I thought of Dad coming home late.
Talking about emergency repair jobs.
Phone calls he took outside.
Maybe not all of them had been about air conditioners.
Rebecca’s voice trembled.
“There’s one more thing.”
I almost didn’t want to hear it.
“What?”
“Your father didn’t die believing the trust was safe.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he believe?”
“That Elaine had someone inside Belle & Vale helping her.”
Jonathan straightened.
Simone looked toward him.
Grant went still.
I asked:
“Who?”
Rebecca whispered:
“He never wrote the name. Only the title.”
“What title?”
“Chief Financial Officer.”
Everyone turned toward the glass wall overlooking headquarters.
May you like
Because Belle & Vale’s current CFO, Martin Cole, had been with the company for twenty-seven years.
And he was walking toward the room.
