Chapter 8 - Sloan's SecretThe Marriage Was Never an Accident
Rebecca made tea.
I didn't drink mine.
I couldn't stop staring at her.
“To finish what her father started,” I repeated.
Rebecca nodded.
“Gregory Sloan believed Arthur had stolen money from him.”
“But Arthur said Gregory was stealing from his company.”
“They were both stealing from someone.”
“Who?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Each other.”
It took hours to understand the history.
Arthur and Gregory had once been partners.
Rebecca had managed the books.
Vincent Hale had invested money.
Marcus Bell had been the outside financier.
Then millions disappeared.
Everyone blamed everyone.
Rebecca became the scapegoat.
She disappeared.
Arthur eventually remarried.
And years later, Sloan entered the family.
Rebecca told me she had recognized Sloan immediately.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Arthur begged me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed your son could still be saved.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Trevor?”
“He was manipulated.”
“That doesn't excuse what he did.”
“No.”
Rebecca reached across the table.
“But Sloan was patient.”
“How?”
“She learned every weakness in your family.”
My heart sank.
“My money.”
“Yes.”
“Christmas.”
“Yes.”
“The company.”
“Yes.”
“Then she knew about the trust.”
“From her father.”
I stood.
“Then why did she need to marry Trevor?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Because Trevor was the easiest way into your life.”
I felt sick.
All those years.
All those family dinners.
All the birthdays.
Every request.
Every emergency.
A plan.
Not necessarily from the beginning.
But eventually.
Perhaps that was why Sloan had never been satisfied.
She didn't just want money.
She wanted control.
My phone buzzed.
Trevor.
This time I answered.
“Mom.”
“Where are you?”
“I need to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because Sloan knows.”
“Knows what?”
He sounded terrified.
“That I told you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Trevor, tell me the truth.”
“I did something.”
“What?”
A long silence.
“I signed something.”
“What did you sign?”
“The house transfer.”
My blood went cold.
“You signed my house?”
“I thought it was temporary.”
“Trevor.”
“I thought we were using it as collateral.”
“For what?”
“Debt.”
“Whose debt?”
His voice cracked.
“Mine.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
I sat down.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
“You owe Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Years.”
“How?”
He started crying.
“I thought I could fix it.”
I closed my eyes.
“Trevor, did Sloan know?”
“Yes.”
“Did she help?”
“No.”
He took a shaky breath.
“She made it worse.”
“How?”
“She borrowed more.”
“For what?”
“She said she could make Dad's records disappear.”
My eyes opened.
“What records?”
“The evidence.”
“The evidence against her father?”
“No.”
Trevor's voice dropped.
“The evidence against mine.”
I stared into space.
“Your father?”
“No, Mom.”
He whispered:
“The evidence against me.”
My heart broke all over again.
“What did you do?”
“I didn't kill Dad.”
“I never said you did.”
“I know.”
He went silent.
Then:
“But I was there.”
“When?”
“The night he died.”
I couldn't speak.
Trevor inhaled.
“I saw someone enter the office.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You just said you knew.”
“I recognized her.”
“Who?”
His answer came slowly.
“Sloan's mother.”
I froze.
“Sloan's mother is dead.”
“No.”
May you like
He whispered:
“She isn't.”
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