Chapter 8 - MY MOTHER'S SECOND FAMILY
By Christmas morning, my father was gone.
Not convicted.
Not even formally arrested for my grandfather's death.
But investigators had enough financial evidence to detain him for questioning, and enough questions about the forged guardianship petition to keep several attorneys very busy.
The house felt enormous after he left.
Wrapping paper still sat beneath the tree.
Dinner plates remained untouched.
At 2:13 a.m., Mom made coffee.
Nobody drank it.
Leo sat on the kitchen floor with his back against the cabinets.
Margaret and Daniel had gone to meet investigators.
For the first time in my life, it was just the three of us.
Mom.
Leo.
Me.
No father controlling the conversation.
No competition.
No performance.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I had one question.
“How much did you know?”
Mom stared into her coffee.
“Too much.”
“That's not an answer.”
She looked exhausted.
“I knew about the trust.”
“How much?”
“I knew Richard was using some of it.”
“Some?”
She winced.
“I didn't know the amount.”
“You signed transfers.”
“He told me they were temporary loans.”
“You believed him?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
She looked at me.
“Later, I was afraid.”
I wanted to understand.
But understanding wasn't the same as forgiving.
“You helped prepare the guardianship petition.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
“You watched Dad humiliate me for years.”
“Yes.”
“You asked whether I'd still pay your bills five minutes after he threw me out.”
She covered her face.
“Yes.”
Leo whispered:
“Mom, why?”
She lowered her hands.
Then she said something neither of us expected.
“Because I have nowhere else to go.”
I stared at her.
“You have money.”
“No.”
“Dad has accounts everywhere.”
“Richard has accounts.”
She emphasized his name.
“Not me.”
“What about the Florida condo?”
“His company owns it.”
“The cars?”
“Leased through his business.”
“The retirement accounts?”
She laughed bitterly.
“He emptied mine two years ago.”
Leo sat upright.
“What?”
Mom looked at us.
“I've been financially dependent on your father since you were children.”
I almost reminded her she'd helped make me financially responsible for the household.
Then she continued.
“And there is someone else.”
Leo frowned.
“Someone else?”
Mom's hands began shaking.
“I wasn't spending all that money on shopping.”
My stomach tightened.
“What were you spending it on?”
She walked to the pantry and removed a small key taped beneath a shelf.
Then she opened a locked drawer I'd never noticed.
Inside were photographs.
A young woman.
Brown hair.
Twenty-something.
In some pictures, Mom stood beside her.
In others, the woman was alone.
College graduation.
Birthday cake.
A hospital lobby.
Leo picked up one photograph.
“Who is this?”
Mom whispered:
“Her name is Sophie.”
Something in her voice told me before she finished.
“She is my daughter.”
Leo dropped the photograph.
“What?”
I stared at Mom.
“You have another child?”
“Yes.”
“From Dad?”
“No.”
Christmas morning somehow became even more impossible.
Mom sat down.
“I had Sophie when I was eighteen.”
Before Dad.
Before us.
Her strict parents had forced her to give the baby up for adoption.
For more than twenty years, she'd known almost nothing about Sophie.
Then, six years earlier, Sophie found her.
“I started helping her financially,” Mom said.
“How much?”
“Her adoptive father died. She had student loans. Medical bills. I…”
She stopped.
I hated where my mind went.
“Medical bills for what?”
Mom shook her head.
“Nothing dangerous now. She's okay.”
I exhaled.
“Does Dad know?”
“He found out three years ago.”
Of course.
Another secret.
Another piece of leverage.
“He told me if I ever left him, he'd make sure Sophie believed I contacted her only because I wanted something.”
Leo frowned.
“That doesn't explain the money.”
Mom looked at me.
“Some of the transfers from your trust went to her.”
My chest tightened.
“How much?”
“About four hundred thousand over six years.”
I stood.
“Harlow—”
“You stole from me to support a daughter I didn't know existed?”
“I intended to repay it.”
Everyone in this family apparently had the same sentence.
Then Leo picked up another photograph.
Something about it caught his attention.
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
“Why is Sophie wearing a Northstar badge?”
My head snapped toward the picture.
She was.
Employee badge.
Northstar Strategic Holdings.
Mom's face went pale.
“She started working there last year.”
“What department?”
“I don't know exactly. Compliance, I think.”
My phone buzzed.
Halcyon security again.
We had identified the employee who first reported the fraudulent transfers using Leo's credentials.
I already knew before opening the file.
SOPHIE MARTIN.
May you like
My half-sister had been the whistleblower who exposed my brother.
And according to the second line of the report, she'd disappeared from work three days earlier.
