Chapter 5: Fifty Thousand Dollars
I read the bank statement again.
Then I read it a third time.
The payment had been made on August 16, three days after my mother collapsed.
Fifty thousand dollars had moved from her personal account into Mr. Bennett's account.
“Explain this,” I said.
Mr. Bennett removed his glasses.
“I was hoping we wouldn't have to discuss this under these circumstances.””
“Under what circumstances would you prefer? Another funeral?””
He flinched.
I immediately regretted the words, but I couldn't take them back.
He placed both hands on the desk.
“Your mother asked me to hold that money.””
“Why?””
“She had discovered that someone had been withdrawing money from an account belonging to the family trust. She wanted to make sure a separate sum remained protected.””
“Then why was it transferred to you?””
“Because she believed her personal accounts were being monitored.””
I stared at him.
“By Daniel?””
“I don't know.””
“You don't know?””
“I suspected him. But suspicion isn't proof.””
I picked up the statement.
“Why didn't you tell Dad?””
“I did.””
“When?””
“After your mother's death.””
“And what did he say?””
Mr. Bennett looked toward the photograph on the desk.
“He told me to keep the money safe until he could establish what had happened.””
I felt a chill.
“Was the money ever returned?””
“Yes.””
“To whom?””
“To the trust.””
“When?””
“Six months later.””
I shook my head.
“Then why did Daniel say you were paid?””
“Because he saw the transfer but not the agreement behind it.””
He opened his briefcase and removed a second document.
It was a handwritten instruction from my mother.
Please hold the attached funds separately. Do not release them to Richard or Daniel until the original trust documents have been located.
My eyes widened.
“Why not Dad?””
“Your mother had become concerned that your father was being manipulated by someone inside the company.””
“Daniel?””
Mr. Bennett nodded slowly.
I sat down.
Everything I thought I knew about my family was becoming unfamiliar.
My mother had suspected Daniel.
My father had discovered the forged agreement.
And Mr. Bennett had been holding money that apparently belonged to a secret arrangement.
“What happened to the original trust documents?””
Mr. Bennett closed the folder.
“They disappeared.””
“When?””
“The day after your mother's death.””
“Who had access to the house?””
“Your father, Daniel, myself, and the housekeeper.””
I stared at him.
“And you never found them?””
“No.””
I stood and walked toward the photograph of my parents.
My mother was smiling.
Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, and my father had his arm around her shoulders.
I remembered her telling me that the family home was more than bricks and timber.
It was a promise.
I had never understood what she meant.
Now I wondered whether she had been trying to warn me.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Daniel.
*We need to talk. Alone. Tonight. Don't bring Bennett.*
I showed it to the attorney.
He shook his head.
“Don't go.””
“He's my brother.””
“That's precisely why you should be careful. He knows how to use your feelings against you.””
I looked at the message again.
“I need to hear what he has to say.””
“Then meet him somewhere public.””
I agreed.
At six that evening, I drove to the restaurant where Daniel and I used to celebrate birthdays as children.
It had changed very little.
The same dark wooden tables.
The same brass lamps.
The same smell of roasted garlic and fresh bread.
Daniel was already seated near the window.
He stood when he saw me.
“Emily.””
I didn't sit immediately.
“Where's Vanessa?””
“At home.””
“Why did you ask me to come alone?””
He pulled out the chair.
“Because I want to fix this.””
I finally sat.
A waiter approached.
Daniel ordered two coffees without asking what I wanted.
That small gesture irritated me more than it should have.
He had always assumed he knew what was best for me.
“Let's start with the documents,” I said.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Dad was making terrible decisions near the end.””
“Which decisions?””
“He wanted to transfer the company to you.””
“Why?””
“Because he felt guilty.””
“About what?””
Daniel looked down.
Then he rubbed his jaw.
“Emily, you need to understand something. I built that company alongside Dad. I worked there for years.””
“You worked there. I took care of him.””
“You think that makes you entitled to everything?””
“No. I think it makes me entitled to the truth.””
He glanced around the restaurant.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Dad discovered some irregularities in the accounts years ago. He blamed me. I made mistakes, but I never stole from him.””
“What about the four hundred and eighty thousand dollars?””
His eyes flashed.
“That money was used to save the company.””
“Then why did you hide it?””
“Because Dad was going to shut everything down.””
“Did you forge my signature?””
“No.””
“Did Mom?””
He hesitated.
“She agreed to give me control.””
I placed her letter on the table.
“Then why did she write this?””
He glanced at it.
His fingers tightened around his coffee cup.
“Where did you get that?””
“From Dad's room.””
“Give it to me.””
“No.””
He reached across the table.
I pulled it away.
His coffee spilled.
“Stop acting like a child!”” he snapped.
Several people turned.
Daniel immediately lowered his voice.
“You have no idea what you're getting into.””
“Then tell me.””
He looked toward the window.
For a moment, he seemed exhausted.
“Mom found out about the money. She was going to tell Dad. I begged her to wait until I could explain.””
“What happened that morning?””
“She fell.””
“Why did you call Bennett instead of staying with her?””
His face tightened.
“I did stay with her.””
“Then why did Dad say you used her death to steal my inheritance?””
Daniel leaned back.
“Because he blamed me for everything.””
The waiter returned with a replacement coffee.
Daniel waited until he left.
Then he reached into his jacket and removed a small envelope.
“Here.””
I didn't touch it.
“What is it?””
“Proof that Mom agreed to the transfer.””
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten statement.
It contained my mother's signature.
The date was August 13.
The day before she collapsed.
But something was wrong.
The handwriting looked almost perfect.
Too perfect.
I remembered the way my mother wrote the letter Mr. Bennett had shown me.
Her capital M always had a distinctive curved final stroke.
This document didn't.
I looked at Daniel.
“Where did you get this?””
“Dad's office.””
“It's fake.””
His face darkened.
“Don't be ridiculous.””
“Mom never wrote like this.””
“People's handwriting changes.””
“Not overnight.””
He suddenly grabbed the envelope.
“Give it back.””
I held on.
For a moment, we struggled across the table.
Then the envelope tore.
A small folded slip of paper fell onto the floor.
I picked it up.
It was a receipt from a private document reproduction company.
The date was six months earlier.
The order description read:
*Reproduction of Margaret Carter's signature — high-resolution reference copy.*
My mouth went dry.
Daniel lunged for the receipt.
I stepped backward.
“Why would you need a reproduction of Mom's signature?””
He stared at me.
Then he said something I wasn't prepared for.
“Because someone else has been using it.””
“Who?””
He looked toward the restaurant entrance.
His expression changed.
“Emily, don't turn around.””
Naturally, I turned.
Mr. Bennett stood near the doorway.
Beside him was a woman I hadn't seen in eighteen years.
My mother's younger sister.
Aunt Laura.
She was holding a leather handbag against her chest.
May you like
And when she saw the receipt in my hand, she whispered:
“Daniel, you promised me you destroyed that.””
