Chapter 10 - The Person Behind the MoneyMy accountant's name was Richard Cole.
He had handled my taxes for six years.
He had prepared my business returns.
He had advised me on investments.
He had even helped my father with a property refinance.
Now his name was on the corporate documents for Northbridge Capital.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Marcus nodded.
“Yes.”
Claire leaned forward.
“Let's not assume he's the mastermind.”
“Then what is he?”
“Possibly the facilitator.”
I called Richard.
He answered on the third ring.
“Nora.”
“Did you create a company called Northbridge Capital?”
Silence.
Then:
“Where did you hear that name?”
I closed my eyes.
“Answer the question.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I can't discuss client matters.”
“My name is on the paperwork.”
“That doesn't mean—”
“Did my parents ask you to create it?”
He didn't answer.
“Richard.”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Did you know they were using my identity?”
Silence.
“That matters.”
“I thought they had authorization.”
“What authorization?”
“The power of attorney.”
My hands went cold.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“You know it was forged?”
He went silent.
Then said:
“I didn't know.”
“But you signed documents based on it.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because your father told me it was legitimate.”
“And you believed him?”
Another pause.
“I believed what I was shown.”
I almost laughed.
“That's what everyone says.”
I hung up.
That evening, Richard agreed to meet.
He arrived at Claire's office carrying a thick folder.
“I should have come sooner.”
“You should have.”
He looked exhausted.
“I didn't realize how far they'd gone.”
“What did you know?”
He placed the folder on the table.
“Your grandfather's estate had an account.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
He opened the folder.
“The account was worth $2.4 million.”
My chest tightened.
“That's impossible.”
“It existed.”
“Where is it now?”
“Most of it is gone.”
“How much?”
“About $1.8 million.”
I stared.
“Who took it?”
Richard looked at me.
“Your father.”
“What about the remaining money?”
“Frozen.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather added a second condition.”
“What condition?”
Richard opened another document.
“The trust was structured so that the beneficiary couldn't access the funds until she reached a certain age or a triggering event occurred.”
“What triggering event?”
Richard turned the page.
“Fraud against the beneficiary.”
I stared at him.
My grandfather had planned for this.
He had anticipated that someone might try to steal the estate.
And he had created a legal mechanism to protect it.
“What happens now?”
“The trust can release the remaining funds.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
My voice dropped.
“How much is left?”
“About six hundred thousand.”
I sat back.
Six hundred thousand dollars.
The amount was enough to explain everything.
My parents didn't just know about it.
They knew how to get it.
Richard looked down.
“There is one problem.”
“What?”
“The trustee won't release the funds automatically.”
“Why?”
“They need evidence.”
I almost smiled.
“We have evidence.”
Richard shook his head.
“Not enough.”
“What more?”
“A direct admission.”
I thought about the recordings.
My father admitting he used the power of attorney.
Tyler admitting he helped forge documents.
Bank records.
Storage units.
The lawsuit.
I had plenty.
But Richard still looked uneasy.
“What?”
“There is another document.”
“Which one?”
“The final trust instruction.”
“Where?”
He didn't answer.
I stared at him.
“Richard.”
He swallowed.
“Your father has it.”
“Where?”
“In the family safe.”
“What family safe?”
He looked at Claire.
“There's a safe hidden inside the house.”
“Where?”
“In your grandfather's study.”
I frowned.
“That room was locked after he died.”
Richard nodded.
“I know.”
“What's inside?”
“The original estate documents.”
“And the trust instruction?”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from Dad.
Come alone tomorrow.
Then another.
Bring nothing.
Then:
We can end this quietly.
I showed Claire.
She read it.
Then looked at Richard.
“Did you tell him we know?”
“No.”
Claire stood.
“Then he has another reason to believe Nora will come.”
I asked:
“What?”
She pointed at the final message.
There was one more line.
I know you spoke to Richard.
I stared at it.
Richard's face went pale.
“You didn't tell him?”
“No.”
“Then how did he know?”
We looked at each other.
Someone had been watching us.
Claire's office.
The calls.
The investigator.
Everything.
Then Marcus opened the security report.
One visitor had entered Claire's building that afternoon.
The visitor had used no real name.
But the camera caught his face.
I looked at the image.
It was a man I recognized.
Not Tyler.
Not Dad.
Not Richard.
It was the notary whose stamp had appeared on my forged power of attorney.
May you like
And beneath the photograph was a second note.
He came here looking for the recording.
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