Chapter 6: The Woman Who Knew My Father
I didn't sleep that night.
The wedding dress remained on the chair in my mother's guest room, its white fabric folded over the back like something abandoned.
My phone sat beside me.
The photograph of my father was still open on the screen.
I kept zooming in on Margaret Whitmore's face.
She was younger, her hair darker, but there was no mistaking her.
She had been standing beside my father after the money supposedly disappeared.
Why?
At eight the next morning, Richard called.
"Emily, I've arranged a meeting with Claire Morgan.""
"When?""
"Eleven. At her office in Boston.""
"How did you contact her?""
"She replied to my message. She wants to speak with you directly.""
I looked toward the window.
My mother was downstairs making coffee.
"Is it safe?""
Richard paused.
"I've arranged for us to meet in a public office with security. But I don't want you traveling alone.""
"I'll bring Mom.""
"Good. And Emily?""
"Yes?""
"Don't tell anyone where we're going.""
I agreed.
An hour later, we were on our way.
My mother sat beside me in the back seat while Richard drove.
Neither of us spoke much.
Finally, she reached over and took my hand.
"Your father would be proud of you.""
I looked out the window.
"I don't even know what happened to him.""
"Neither do I.""
She squeezed my fingers.
"But we're going to find out.""
Claire Morgan's office was on the fourth floor of an old brick building near the financial district.
A receptionist led us into a small conference room.
A woman in her late fifties stood near the window.
She had short silver hair and wore a navy suit.
When she saw me, her expression softened.
"Emily Carter?""
I nodded.
She walked toward me.
"You look so much like your father.""
I swallowed.
"You knew him?""
"Very well.""
She offered me a hand.
"My name is Claire. I was his financial controller for nearly eight years.""
Richard introduced himself.
Claire gestured toward the chairs.
"Please, sit. There's a lot you need to know.""
My mother placed her handbag on the floor.
Claire opened a thick folder.
"Your father discovered the first suspicious transfer in September. He initially believed it was a mistake made by the accounting department.""
"What happened next?"" I asked.
"He traced the transaction to an account controlled by Victor Hayes.""
"Why didn't he report him?""
"He tried. But Victor had connections within the company. Every time your father requested an audit, the relevant records disappeared.""
Richard leaned forward.
"Do you have copies?""
Claire nodded.
"I kept some.""
She placed a flash drive on the table.
"These are the original transaction records, along with internal emails.""
Richard picked it up.
"Where did you get these?""
"Your father gave them to me two days before he died.""
My mother inhaled sharply.
"Why didn't you come to us?""
Claire looked at her.
"I tried. Twice. The first time, I was told the family wanted no further contact. The second time, I received a message saying the matter had been settled.""
My mother frowned.
"Who told you that?""
Claire opened another document.
"Margaret Whitmore.""
My mother went pale.
Claire continued.
"She said Eleanor Carter had agreed to compensate the affected parties and close the investigation.""
Richard shook his head.
"That never happened.""
"I know that now.""
Claire looked at me.
"Your grandmother contacted me several months later. She told me not to trust anything Margaret said.""
I leaned forward.
"Why was Margaret involved with my father?""
Claire folded her hands.
"She was an investor in one of his commercial developments. She introduced him to Victor Hayes, claiming he could help restructure the company's debt.""
"And then they stole the money?""
"Victor arranged the transfers. Margaret provided access to several accounts and introduced shell companies that received the funds.""
My mother looked horrified.
"How much?""
Claire gave her a number.
My mother covered her mouth.
I stared at the figure.
It was far more than I had imagined.
"Where did the money go?""
Claire turned to a page.
"Most of it moved through companies registered in different states. Some funds were used to purchase property. Others were transferred overseas.""
"And the Boston account?""
Claire looked at me.
"That was your father's emergency reserve.""
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
"How much was in it?""
"Your father transferred a significant portion of the remaining legitimate company assets into that account before he died.""
My mother began crying.
"How did he manage that?""
"He had discovered the fraud and wanted to protect at least part of the family estate.""
I looked at the flash drive.
"Does Daniel know about it?""
Claire nodded.
"Yes.""
The room went silent.
"How?"" I asked.
"Because he visited my office three months ago.""
My stomach dropped.
"What did he want?""
"He asked about your father's financial records. He claimed you had requested him to help organize the family assets.""
I shook my head.
"I never asked him.""
"I know. I refused to provide anything without your written authorization.""
Claire opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
"After he left, I received a call from Margaret.""
"What did she say?""
Claire's expression hardened.
"She told me I was interfering in a family matter and that I should remember what happened to your father.""
My mother stood.
"She threatened you?""
"Not directly. But I understood.""
Richard leaned back.
"Did you report it?""
"I preserved the call records. I also contacted your grandmother's attorney.""
She turned toward me.
"Emily, there is something I haven't told you yet.""
I felt a chill.
"What?""
Claire slid a photograph across the table.
It showed Daniel entering a building.
The date was three months before our engagement.
I looked closer.
It was the office of a private investigator.
"Why was he there?""
Claire answered quietly.
"He hired someone to investigate the Boston account.""
I stared at the photograph.
"Did he find it?""
Claire nodded.
"Not the account itself. But he discovered the bank where it was held.""
Richard frowned.
"Which bank?""
Claire hesitated.
Then she placed a business card on the table.
"Northbridge Private Bank.""
My mother looked at me.
"Your father mentioned that name.""
Claire nodded.
"That's where the emergency account was opened.""
I reached for the card.
"Can we access it?""
"Not without proving your authority. The account was established under a special arrangement, and your father named someone as an additional custodian.""
"Who?""
Claire looked directly at me.
"Your grandmother.""
Richard frowned.
"Eleanor?""
"Yes. But there's something unusual about the arrangement.""
She removed another page.
"Your grandmother was not simply a custodian. She was instructed to release the account records only if a specific condition was met.""
I swallowed.
"What condition?""
Claire looked at the photograph of Daniel.
"Evidence that someone connected to the Whitmore family had attempted to obtain the money.""
Richard immediately stood.
"Then we need to contact the bank.""
Claire shook her head.
"There's a problem.""
"What problem?"" I asked.
She placed one final document on the table.
It was a notice from Northbridge Private Bank.
The account had recently been accessed.
The date was two days earlier.
My blood ran cold.
"Who accessed it?""
Claire pointed to the signature line.
I leaned forward.
The name was clearly printed.
Margaret Whitmore.
My mother's hand flew to her mouth.
"How is that possible?""
Richard grabbed the document.
"She shouldn't have access.""
Claire looked at me.
"That's why I contacted you. Someone submitted a request claiming that your grandmother had died and that the account should be transferred to the surviving authorized representative.""
I stared at the paper.
"Who submitted the request?""
Claire turned the page.
There was another signature.
Daniel Whitmore.
I felt the room begin to spin.
He hadn't just been planning to marry me for access to my inheritance.
He had already been trying to take my father's hidden money.
Richard immediately called the bank's legal department.
My mother sat down, trembling.
I looked at the notice again.
Then I noticed something at the bottom.
A handwritten note.
Additional verification required: original beneficiary authorization.
I looked at Claire.
"Did they get it?""
She shook her head.
"No. The bank rejected the request because they couldn't verify your grandmother's authorization.""
I exhaled.
For one brief moment, relief washed over me.
Then Claire spoke again.
"Emily, there's another reason the bank contacted me.""
"What reason?""
She looked uncomfortable.
"Someone visited the branch yesterday with an original document bearing your signature.""
I went completely still.
"My signature?""
Claire nodded.
"They claimed you had authorized the transfer.""
Richard stopped speaking on the phone.
My mother looked at me.
"Emily, you never signed anything, did you?""
I shook my head.
"No.""
Claire opened a final folder.
Inside was a scanned copy of the document.
At the bottom was my name.
My signature.
And beside it was a date from three weeks earlier.
I stared at it.
It looked exactly like mine.
Then I noticed the witness signature.
I knew that handwriting too.
It belonged to Vanessa.
And suddenly I understood that the woman who had kissed my fiancé wasn't simply part of the affair.
She had helped someone forge my signature.
May you like
But the worst part was the final line on the document.
*Authorized representative: Daniel Whitmore.*
