Chapter 5 - The Account Nobody Knew ExistedWe spent the following day trying to answer one question.
Where had Frank moved the money?
The bank records showed transfers.
But the destination accounts were hidden behind corporate entities and trust accounts.
Rebecca contacted an independent forensic accountant named Laura Greene.
Laura was in her fifties, sharp-eyed and impatient with excuses.
She arrived carrying two laptops and a cardboard box of files.
“I don't care what your family says,” she told me.
“I care what the numbers say.”
That sentence comforted me.
Numbers didn't manipulate.
Numbers didn't smile while taking your credit card.
Numbers didn't call you confused when you remembered exactly what had happened.
Laura spent six hours reconstructing Frank's finances.
Finally, she looked up.
“He wasn't moving money to Bellwood.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“He was pulling money away from it.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Then where did it go?”
Laura opened a file.
“An account in another state.”
“What bank?”
“Private trust institution.”
“Who owns it?”
Laura hesitated.
“A trust.”
I felt cold.
“What trust?”
“Calloway Family Preservation Trust.”
I stared.
“I've never heard of it.”
Laura looked at Rebecca.
“It's named after your family.”
“Who created it?”
Laura read the document.
“Frank Calloway.”
“When?”
“Six months before his death.”
I looked at her.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Laura continued.
“Because you're not listed as the trustee.”
Rebecca sat straighter.
“Who is?”
Laura turned the screen.
The trustee was an attorney named Stephen Ward.
The same man from Frank's emails.
The trust held $412,000.
My hands went numb.
“Why?”
Laura explained that the trust appeared to be designed to protect a portion of family assets from claims against Bellwood Development.
Rebecca understood immediately.
“Dad anticipated the company failing.”
Laura nodded.
“And he expected someone to come after your mother's money.”
I stared at my husband's handwriting.
“Why would he leave me without telling me?”
Laura looked at me.
“Perhaps because telling you would have exposed you.”
“To what?”
She didn't answer immediately.
“Fraud.”
The word landed heavily.
“Whose?”
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
Rebecca began reading the trust documents.
Then she froze.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“The trust has a beneficiary.”
“Me?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
She turned the screen.
The primary beneficiary was Rebecca.
The secondary beneficiary was a person named Claire Calloway.
I frowned.
“Who is Claire?”
Laura looked at me.
“You don't know?”
“No.”
Rebecca searched the name.
Nothing.
Then she looked at the birth records attached to the trust.
Her expression changed.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Claire Calloway was born thirty-one years ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“So?”
Rebecca stared at the document.
“Her mother is listed as…”
She stopped.
I could barely breathe.
“Who?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Your husband's signature appears on the paternity acknowledgment.”
The room went silent.
I stood.
“No.”
Laura said nothing.
I shook my head.
“Frank was never unfaithful.”
“We don't know that,” Rebecca said gently.
“I know my husband.”
Rebecca looked down.
“Then who is Claire?”
Before Laura could answer, her phone rang.
She listened.
Then looked at me.
“Someone just accessed the trust.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“Who?”
She checked the login record.
Then frowned.
“The access was from your house.”
I stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“I was here.”
“I wasn't.”
Laura checked again.
“Someone accessed it using a device registered to Melissa.”
Rebecca stood.
“Can you lock it?”
Laura nodded.
“Temporarily.”
She began typing.
Then suddenly froze.
“What?”
Laura turned the screen toward us.
A second access attempt had just occurred.
This one was coming from the bank.
A message appeared.
TRANSFER REQUEST.
Amount:
$412,000.
Destination:
Bellwood Development Recovery Account.
Rebecca's face went white.
“They're trying to drain the trust.”
Laura cancelled the request.
But another request appeared.
Then another.
Someone was fighting the lockout in real time.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Mom, they know we're here.”
My phone vibrated.
A text message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
My front door.
Taken from outside.
Underneath were six words:
You should never have opened the safe.
Rebecca stood immediately.
“Don't go near the windows.”
I looked at the photograph.
A black SUV was parked across the street.
Laura called the police.
Ten minutes later, the SUV was gone.
But one thing stayed behind.
A white envelope had been slipped under my front door.
Rebecca found it.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Frank.
Alive.
Standing outside a hotel.
And beside him was a woman I had never seen before.
May you like
On the back of the photograph were three words.
ASK HER ABOUT CLAIRE.
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