Chapter 8 - The Man Behind the FamilyRichard Sloan was impossible to reach.
His law office claimed he was unavailable.
His assistant said he was traveling.
His voicemail was full.
But someone else reached me.
A private investigator.
Her name was Elena Brooks.
She said my father had hired her shortly before his death.
“You were working for my father?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you contact me?”
“Because he specifically told me not to until you were threatened with legal action.”
I stared at her.
“That was three years ago.”
“Your father believed you would need evidence, not warnings.”
She handed me a folder.
Inside were surveillance photographs.
My mother meeting Richard Sloan.
Vanessa meeting Richard.
Paul meeting Richard.
Bank deposits.
Company records.
And one photograph that made my breath stop.
It was taken outside a private clinic.
My father was standing beside a doctor.
The date was three days before his death.
“Why was he at a clinic?”
“He had discovered he was being poisoned.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Small doses. Nothing obvious. He believed someone was trying to weaken him.”
I felt sick.
“Was that proven?”
“No.”
She pulled out another document.
Toxicology results.
A trace substance had been found in his blood after death.
The report listed it as inconclusive.
But my father had known.
He had written notes.
He suspected someone close to him.
Then Elena said:
“There's something else.”
She showed me a photograph from the night of the crash.
My father's car had crashed into a barrier.
But in the background was another vehicle.
A black SUV.
I recognized it immediately.
Vanessa's vehicle.
My entire body went cold.
“Was she there?”
“Yes.”
“Did the police know?”
“Not according to the original report.”
“Why?”
“Because the vehicle disappeared before investigators arrived.”
I sat in silence.
My entire family had lied to me.
For three years.
Maybe longer.
Then Elena leaned closer.
“Your father didn't trust Richard Sloan.”
“Why?”
“Because Sloan had access to every estate document.”
“Even the trust?”
“Especially the trust.”
She gave me another file.
Inside was a list of transactions.
One amount appeared over and over.
$2,600.
My eyes narrowed.
“What is this?”
“Those are payments made to a private events company.”
“Why?”
Elena looked at me.
“Sweet 15 parties.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Your niece isn't the first.”
The company had organized parties for several wealthy families.
The invoices were inflated.
Massively.
And each event had been used to move money from trusts into personal accounts.
The $2,600 contribution wasn't about helping Isabella celebrate.
It was part of a laundering system.
I felt the pieces snap together.
The family demanded money.
People sent it.
The event company received it.
Then the money was redistributed through shell companies.
And somehow my mother had become involved.
But why was my refusal so dangerous?
Elena looked at me.
“Because your one-dollar payment created a problem.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Your payment was made through the family account network.”
“What?”
She pointed to the transaction.
“The system expected a $2,600 contribution from every adult family member.”
My dollar had been automatically flagged.
“For what?”
“Financial audit.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did the system reveal?”
She paused.
“Something your mother never expected you to see.”
“What?”
“A linked account containing nearly four million dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“Whose account?”
May you like
Elena looked at me.
“Yours.”
