Dad spoke quickly.
“We never saw it.”
Elaine glanced at the evidence bag.
“It was found inside your storage unit.”
“Then an employee must have placed it there.”
“What employee had access to your private unit?”
Dad looked toward Mason.
Mason looked toward Mom.
The way they searched for someone to sacrifice made me nauseous.
Brooke retrieved her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
Mason blocked her path.
“You’re not walking out and pretending you weren’t involved.”
“I arranged one meeting because you lied to me.”
“You signed closing documents.”
“As a witness.”
“You benefited from the money.”
“Without knowing where it came from.”
He laughed harshly.
“You never asked because you liked the house.”
Her hand struck his face.
The crack silenced the room.
Mason touched his cheek, stunned.
Brooke stepped around him.
At the doorway, Detective Price stopped her.
“Mrs. Whitmore, we’ll need to speak with you before you leave.”
Her shoulders collapsed.
She nodded and followed Officer Ramirez into the living room.
Mom turned on me.
Not angrily. Desperately.
“Please don’t let this destroy us.”
I looked at the woman who had saved my childhood drawings, packed my lunches and sat beside me when I had pneumonia at twelve.
That history was real.
So was the folder in the storage unit.
“You destroyed us when you decided I wasn’t entitled to my own life.”
“We can repair this.”
“How?”
“We’ll sell the house. Your father will liquidate what remains of the business. Mason can repay his share.”
Grandpa shook his head.
“The house is already mortgaged beyond its value.”
Mom’s face went blank.
She turned toward Dad.
“What does he mean?”
Dad said nothing.
“Ben?”
“The legal expenses increased.”
“We haven’t had legal expenses until now.”
He loosened his collar.
“There were other business matters.”
Mom stared at him with dawning horror.
Grandpa opened one final document.
Whitmore Construction had not merely received the proceeds from my company.
It had transferred more than a million dollars to an account Mom had never seen.
The account belonged to a woman named Serena Vale.
And Dad had been paying her for three years.
### Part 8
Mom read the name twice.
“Who is Serena?”
Dad reached for the paper.
Grandpa pulled it back.
“Answer your wife.”
“It’s a vendor.”
“A vendor who receives monthly payments marked personal housing?”
Dad’s face darkened.
“Those records are irrelevant.”
Mom began shaking.
“Who is she?”
No one looked at me anymore.
The room had become a collapsing building, and every person was searching for the nearest exit.
Dad sat down slowly.
“Serena was an employee.”
“Was?”
“She left the company last year.”
“Why did you pay for her apartment?”
He pressed his fingertips against his forehead.
“It’s complicated.”
Mom gave a hollow laugh.
“That’s what guilty men say when the simple answer would destroy them.”
Mason stared at Dad.
“You told me the money went to suppliers.”
“Most of it did.”
“How much went to her?”
Dad said nothing.
Elaine answered.
“Based on the records recovered so far, approximately one point two million dollars.”
Mom made a small sound in her throat.
The money stolen from my company had not only been used to rescue Whitmore Construction. It had financed another life—an apartment, travel, jewelry and recurring payments to a private school.
Mom looked at the statement.
“Private school?”
Dad stood.
“We are not discussing this in front of police.”
“Whose tuition?”
“Diane.”
“Whose child?”
He looked older than Grandpa now.
His silence answered.
Mom picked up a wine glass and threw it against the fireplace.
It shattered across the stone hearth.
Officer Ramirez reentered from the living room.
“Ma’am, step away from the broken glass.”
Mom did, but her eyes remained fixed on Dad.
“How old?”
“Seven.”
Their marriage was thirty-one years old.
The child was seven.
Mom laughed and cried at the same time.
“You stole from your daughter to support yours.”
The sentence cut through me.
Dad flinched.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“How else should I say it?”
“It wasn’t Claire’s money yet.”
Grandpa moved so quickly that his chair tipped over.
“It belonged to her from the moment I executed the transfer.”
“You hid it from her too!”
“I trusted you to complete the process.”
“You made me responsible for an impossible asset.”
“I made you responsible for delivering a folder.”
Dad’s composure broke.
“You always made everything look easy! You built companies. You recovered from losses. You expected me to do the same while reminding everyone I was never as capable as you.”
“So you punished your daughter?”
“I saved forty jobs!”
“You saved your reputation.”
Dad’s chest rose and fell.
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