Chapter 4 - THE DEBTI stood in Lauren's driveway staring at her.
“What debt?”
She didn't respond.
I looked at Matt.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
“How much?”
Lauren whispered:
“About $240,000.”
I laughed.
It came out wrong.
“Dad owes $240,000?”
“More.”
“How much more?”
“Close to $400,000.”
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then I stepped backward.
“This is insane.”
Lauren wiped her eyes.
“Dad said he'd repay everything.”
“With what?”
She didn't know.
That was the problem.
Nobody knew.
They had been borrowing from one hole to fill another.
And somehow, I'd been dragged into it.
I drove home.
That afternoon, I called an attorney.
Her name was Evelyn Hart.
I brought every document I had.
Bank statements.
Cruise reservations.
Messages.
Emails.
The suspicious charges.
She looked through everything.
Then she stopped at one page.
“Who is Lauren?”
“My sister-in-law.”
“Did she have access to your account?”
“Apparently.”
“Did you authorize her?”
“No.”
Evelyn frowned.
“Then this may not be a family dispute.”
“What is it?”
“Potential financial fraud.”
The words sounded enormous.
I sat back.
“Can they be arrested?”
“Potentially.”
“Even if they're family?”
“Family doesn't erase financial crimes.”
She tapped the statement.
“This charge here.”
“$18,500?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recognize the company?”
“No.”
Evelyn searched it.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
“Stone & Vale isn't just a consulting firm.”
“What is it?”
“Debt recovery and asset restructuring.”
I stared at her.
“Why would my family pay them?”
“They wouldn't.”
“What?”
“This payment appears to have been made from a trust account.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“This wasn't a payment for a vacation.”
She opened another document.
“It appears someone transferred funds into a temporary holding account before moving them elsewhere.”
“Money laundering?”
“I'm not saying that.”
“But?”
“But I would be very careful.”
I suddenly remembered Dad's warning.
Don't investigate the card.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Can you trace who authorized it?”
“With the proper records, yes.”
“How long?”
“Maybe a few days.”
I stood.
“Do it.”
That evening, Dad called.
I answered.
“You went to an attorney.”
It wasn't a question.
I said nothing.
“You need to stop.”
“You stole from Grandma.”
“I borrowed money.”
“Without permission.”
“It was temporary.”
“You used my card.”
“I never touched your card.”
“Then explain the authorized user.”
Silence.
“Dad?”
He sighed.
“Lauren was trying to help.”
“By giving you access to my account?”
“Everything would have been repaid.”
“When?”
“When the company recovers.”
“What company?”
His voice hardened.
“Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers to.”
I smiled bitterly.
“I've spent my entire life being told I'm useless.”
“You're not useless.”
“Funny. You didn't say that at dinner.”
He didn't answer.
Then I heard something in the background.
A man's voice.
“Tell him the meeting is off.”
I frowned.
“Who was that?”
Dad hung up.
I called back.
Straight to voicemail.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
At 2:11 a.m., my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
Stop contacting your family.
I replied:
Who is this?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then one message arrived.
You have until Monday.
I stared at it.
Until Monday for what?
Before I could respond, another text arrived.
A photo.
It showed a warehouse.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to Dad's company.
And there was something in the foreground.
A cardboard box.
Stamped across the side in black letters:
PROPERTY OF CARTER FAMILY TRUST.
I zoomed in.
The box contained folders.
Dozens of them.
May you like
And one label was visible.
GRANDMOTHER'S ASSETS.
