Chapter 3 - The Cold Handcuffs and the Lies That Crumbled
Within thirty minutes of Gideon’s arrest, a representative from Franklin County Children Services arrived at the house. Her name was Sarah Jenkins, a seasoned caseworker with gentle eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.
Because Roger and Camila’s biological mother, Vanessa, lived in Denver, protocol required Sarah to assess whether the children were in immediate danger or if temporary kinship placement with me was appropriate pending Vanessa’s notification.
I brought Roger and Camila into the living room, setting down cups of warm hot chocolate on the coffee table. Both of them sat huddled together on the oversized sofa, wrapped in a fleece blanket. Leo was upstairs in his bedroom, resting under the watchful care of my closest friend, Rachel, whom I had called to stay with him.
“Roger, Camila,” Sarah said gently, sitting across from them with a notepad. “I know today has been scary and confusing. But I need you to answer a few questions for me about your trip to Hilton Head. Can you do that?”
Roger nodded slowly. Camila wiped her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.
“When your dad packed the car last week,” Sarah asked, “did he say anything to Leo before you drove away?”
Roger looked down at his hands, his knuckles white. “He told Leo to stay in his room until we were gone. He said if Leo came outside to wave goodbye, he would take away his bicycle and his iPad permanently.”
My heart seized in my chest. I pressed a hand against my mouth to keep from crying out.
“And what did your dad tell you two in the car?” Sarah asked.
“He told us that Leo threw a huge tantrum that morning,” Camila whispered, her voice trembling. “He said Leo told him that he hated Roger and me, that we weren't his real brother and sister, and that he didn't want to be seen with us at the beach. Dad said Leo wanted to stay home and play video games all week by himself because he didn't care about our family anymore.”
“Did you believe him?” Sarah inquired softly.
“At first,” Roger admitted, a single tear escaping his eye. “Because Dad was so angry. But then… every night at the hotel, Dad would take his phone and go down to the hotel bar for hours. When Camila asked if we could FaceTime Leo or Claire, Dad took our tablets away. He said the hotel Wi-Fi was broken. But it wasn't broken. He just didn't want us talking to them.”
Roger looked up at me, his eyes full of raw guilt that no eleven-year-old should ever have to carry. “Claire… I’m sorry. I thought Leo really hated us. I didn't know Dad left him alone. If I knew, I would have called 911 from the hotel lobby. I swear I would have.”
I crossed the room immediately, dropping to my knees in front of the sofa, and pulled both Roger and Camila into a fierce, tight embrace.
“Listen to me,” I said firmly, holding them close. “Neither of you did anything wrong. Do you hear me? Not one single thing. Your father lied to you. He manipulated you. You are children, and it was his job to protect all three of you. This is not your fault.”
Camila wept into my shoulder, letting go of the tension she had held all week.
While Sarah stepped into the hallway to place an urgent call to Vanessa in Denver, I took out my phone. Gideon’s parting words at the door had ignited a sickening dread in the pit of my stomach.
“Check your accounts! Check what’s left of your mother’s trust!”
I logged into our joint banking portal.
My mother had established a revocable living trust two years prior, designating me as the sole beneficiary. Upon her death, an initial liquid disbursement of $145,000 had been transferred into my personal savings account to cover estate taxes, funeral costs, and property maintenance in Chicago. Because Gideon had assisted with the electronic paperwork while I was beside my mother’s hospital bed, I had granted him joint administrative access to our primary credit union profile.
When the balance screen loaded on my phone, the number stared back at me in glaring red:
Account Balance: $412.18
Over $140,000 had been systematically siphoned out of the account over the past five days.
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The destination account was listed as: Vance Holdings LLC - First National Bank of South Carolina.
Gideon hadn't just abandoned my child. He had spent his week in Hilton Head laundering my dead mother’s money into a shell corporation registered in another state.
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