Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Had Been Watching My FamilyThe next morning, Robert introduced me to another attorney.
Her name was Evelyn Grant.
She specialized in financial crimes.
I immediately understood why Robert had brought her.
She didn't waste words.
She placed a stack of bank records on the table.
“Your father didn't merely borrow against the company.”
“What did he do?”
“He moved money.”
“How much?”
“Approximately twenty-six million dollars.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Shell companies.”
“Owned by whom?”
She slid a document toward me.
The first company belonged to an entity registered in Delaware.
The second was registered in Nevada.
The third was in the Cayman Islands.
All of them eventually traced back to one person.
Brenda's husband.
I stared at the documents.
“My brother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father was hiding the company's losses.”
Evelyn continued.
“Some of the money came from investors.”
“Some?”
She nodded.
“Some came from the foundation.”
My blood ran cold.
“How much?”
“Eleven million.”
I stood.
“They stole from a legal foundation.”
“Yes.”
“And they tried to make me sign away control so they could cover it.”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven't they been arrested?”
“Because we need evidence.”
I looked at her.
“You have evidence.”
“We have suspicious transactions.”
“Not enough?”
“Not yet.”
She opened another folder.
“This is where you come in.”
I frowned.
“Me?”
“You know how your father thinks.”
“No.”
“You grew up watching him.”
She pointed toward the records.
“You understand his habits. His relationships. His language.”
I looked at the numbers.
Suddenly, something caught my attention.
A recurring payment.
Every month.
Exactly the same amount.
“What's this?”
Evelyn leaned closer.
“That's interesting.”
“It's going to a consulting company.”
“Owned by?”
I checked the documents.
My mother's maiden name.
I looked up.
“My mother?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Evelyn searched the records.
“Your grandfather's former accountant.”
I remembered him.
Mr. Dalton.
He had worked for Grandpa for decades.
Then he disappeared after Grandpa died.
“Find him,” I said.
Two days later, we did.
Mr. Dalton lived in a small town in Vermont.
He agreed to meet me.
When I entered the café, he looked at me for a long time.
“You look like your grandfather.”
“I need to know what happened.”
He sighed.
“I wondered when you'd come.”
“Did my father steal from the trust?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father convinced me to sign certain documents.”
“You were the accountant.”
“I was afraid.”
I nodded.
Everyone seemed afraid of my father.
“What did he threaten?”
“My pension.”
I stared at him.
“That was enough?”
“For a seventy-year-old man with nowhere else to go, yes.”
He reached into his coat.
Then he placed a small recording device on the table.
“I kept this.”
“What is it?”
“Your father's voice.”
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my father's voice.
“Once Claire signs, we control everything.”
Another voice.
Brenda.
“What if she refuses?”
My father's answer was cold.
“Then we'll make sure nobody believes her.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the device.
For years, I had wondered whether my family simply misunderstood me.
Now I had their voices proving otherwise.
I looked at Mr. Dalton.
“Why did you keep this?”
He looked down.
“Your grandfather once told me that one day you might need proof that you weren't crazy.”
My eyes burned.
I whispered:
“He knew.”
May you like
Mr. Dalton nodded.
“He always knew.”
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