Chapter 8 - The Brother Who LiedJesse disappeared for eighteen hours.
His phone went straight to voicemail.
My father didn't answer either.
My mother sent one message.
Please stop making this harder than it has to be.
I stared at it.
Then deleted it.
Betsy arrived at my marina that afternoon.
She carried a suitcase.
“I booked a room for a week.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm staying.”
I gave her a look.
“You're seventy.”
“And still capable of locking a door.”
I almost smiled.
She put her suitcase down.
“Martin called.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That the Westlake account is not the only thing your grandmother left.”
I frowned.
“What else?”
“A second trust.”
“Under whose name?”
“Yours.”
I stared at her.
“Why would Grandma split it?”
“Because the second one was designed to activate under a specific condition.”
“What condition?”
Betsy looked away.
“Your father's death.”
I went silent.
“What?”
“She was afraid he'd outlive the money.”
That was disturbing enough.
But Betsy's next sentence was worse.
“She was also afraid he'd die suddenly.”
I stared at her.
“You mean she expected something to happen?”
“I mean she didn't trust the people around him.”
That night, I returned to Solstice.
I checked every hatch.
Every drawer.
Every compartment.
At eleven, there was a knock on the cabin door.
I froze.
“Who is it?”
A familiar voice.
“Hannah.”
Jesse.
I opened the door.
He looked terrible.
Dark circles.
Wrinkled shirt.
A cut across his cheek.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You're lying.”
He stepped inside.
“Dad hit me.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He wasn't happy.”
“About what?”
“That I talked to you.”
I locked the door behind him.
“Tell me everything.”
He sat at the table.
“I knew the business was in trouble.”
“How much?”
“More than sixty.”
“How much?”
“Almost four hundred thousand.”
I stared.
“Four hundred?”
He nodded.
“Suppliers. Loans. Equipment leases.”
“Then why did Dad tell me sixty?”
“Because sixty is what he thinks you can transfer without asking questions.”
My stomach turned.
“You knew about the fake guarantees.”
“I knew there were loans.”
“That's not what I asked.”
He looked down.
“I saw your name.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I thought Dad would fix it.”
“You thought?”
“I was scared.”
“So you let them use me.”
He looked at me.
“I was twenty-nine and stupid.”
“You're thirty-four now.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Then he reached into his pocket.
He put a USB drive on the table.
“This is from Dad's office.”
My heart started beating faster.
“What is it?”
“Everything.”
I looked at it.
“Everything about what?”
“The loans.”
“The shell companies.”
“The Westlake transfers.”
“And?”
Jesse swallowed.
“Your signature.”
I looked at him.
“What about it?”
“It isn't the first forged document.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“How many?”
He shook his head.
“Dozens.”
“Where did he get my information?”
“Mom.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“She kept your old documents.”
My mother's face flashed through my mind.
The quiet woman who always said she hated conflict.
The woman who had cried when I left.
The woman who sent me a heart emoji under the yacht photograph.
“You're telling me Mom helped?”
“She didn't know everything.”
“That's not an answer.”
“She gave Dad your records when he said they were for taxes.”
I closed my eyes.
Five years.
Five years of believing they had simply forgotten me.
Maybe they hadn't forgotten me.
Maybe they had remembered me every time they needed something.
Jesse looked at the floor.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Dad isn't trying to save the company.”
“Then what is he doing?”
“He's trying to replace the debt.”
“With what?”
Jesse met my eyes.
“With Solstice.”
I felt my blood turn cold.
“He can't.”
“He's already tried.”
“How?”
“The marina loan paperwork.”
I stared at him.
“What marina loan paperwork?”
May you like
Jesse whispered:
“Your father has been telling people the boat belongs to the family.”
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