PART 10 — THE NINE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLAR SECRET
At seven-thirty that evening, Kendra stood in my kitchen reading my father’s journal while Brittany sat beside me.
Daniel paced near the windows.
Nobody liked Charles’s demand that I meet him without Kendra.
Especially Kendra.
“You are absolutely not going alone.”
“I already told him that.”
“And?”
“He hung up.”
“Excellent. Very reassuring.”
Daniel stopped pacing.
“We could call the police.”
“And tell them what?” Kendra asked. “That a retired attorney wants to give Jocelyn an old contract?”
“That he admitted falsifying documents.”
“Which we will preserve and report appropriately. But right now, Jocelyn needs the original agreement.”
Brittany had barely spoken since Charles’s call.
Finally, she looked at me.
“Do you have to go?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“No.”
Her expression hardened.
“Mom.”
“Brittany—”
“This is about me.”
“It involves you. That doesn’t mean I want you walking into an uncertain situation.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying I’m allowed to make my own decisions.”
“You are.”
“Then I’m coming.”
Kendra looked between us.
I expected her to support me.
Instead, she said, “She has a point.”
I gave her a look.
“You are a terrible family attorney.”
“I’m an excellent attorney. That’s why everyone finds me irritating.”
Brittany almost smiled.
We compromised.
I would meet Charles.
Kendra and Daniel would come.
Brittany would remain with them unless we knew the situation was safe.
At 7:58, we pulled up outside Charles’s former office.
The building was dark except for one light on the second floor.
Charles opened the door himself.
He looked older than I remembered.
Not simply retired.
Exhausted.
He saw Kendra behind me.
“I said alone.”
“And I said no.”
His eyes moved toward Brittany sitting in Daniel’s car.
“She came too?”
“This concerns her.”
He looked away.
“More than she knows.”
We followed him upstairs.
His old office was nearly empty.
One desk.
Several cardboard boxes.
A lamp.
And a thick brown envelope sitting in the center of the desk.
Charles pointed toward it.
“The original agreement.”
Kendra immediately picked it up.
“May I?”
Charles nodded.
She removed the document.
My father’s signature.
Travis’s signature.
Charles’s signature as witness.
Nineteen years old.
Kendra read silently.
Then she reached the second page.
Her eyebrows lifted.
“This is unusually detailed.”
“My father didn’t trust Travis.”
“He had reason not to.”
I looked at Charles.
“Tell us about the nine hundred thousand.”
He lowered himself into a chair.
“Seven years ago, Travis had debts.”
“Gambling?”
“Partly.”
“How much?”
“More than he admitted.”
“Where?”
“Sports betting. Private card games. Some legitimate casinos. Mostly illegal bookmakers.”
Daniel swore quietly.
Charles continued.
“But that wasn’t the largest problem.”
“What was?”
“An investment scheme.”
I frowned.
“What kind?”
“Travis started raising money from acquaintances. Small business owners. Friends. Parents from Brittany’s school.”
“For what?”
“He claimed he was investing in distressed residential properties.”
I felt sick.
Real estate.
My industry.
“He used my name?”
“Indirectly.”
“How indirectly?”
“He told people he had access to opportunities through family connections.”
Daniel shook his head.
“He let people assume Jocelyn was involved.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever say my company’s name?”
“Not in anything I found.”
Smart enough to create an impression.
Careful enough to avoid writing the lie directly.
“What happened to the money?”
“Some went into actual properties. Some paid earlier investors.”
“A Ponzi scheme?”
“Not exactly at first.”
That phrase told me everything.
“At first?”
Charles rubbed his face.
“Initially, Travis believed he could make the investments work. Then deals failed. He borrowed more to cover losses. Eventually he was using new money to repay old obligations.”
“How much?”
“At the worst point, almost nine hundred thousand.”
Brittany’s trust suddenly made horrible sense.
Travis wasn’t merely greedy.
He was desperate.
“Did Dad know?”
“Not all of it.”
“But enough.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father had people who could find things.”
That sounded like Dad.
“What did he do?”
“He confronted Travis.”
“When?”
“About eight months before Henry died.”
My heart tightened.
Dad had been sick by then.
He never told me.
“Why didn’t he come to me?”
“Because he believed you would pay Travis’s debts.”
I stared at him.
Charles gave me a sad look.
“Was he wrong?”
I hated the question.
Because he wasn’t.
If Dad had told me Travis might go to prison and Brittany could lose her father, I probably would have written a check.
Not for Travis.
For her.
And Travis would have learned the lesson again.
Threaten chaos.
Jocelyn pays.
“What did Dad do instead?”
“He forced Travis to shut it down.”
“How?”
“He reminded him of this agreement.”
Charles pointed toward the papers.
“If Travis used Brittany or the paternity issue for financial leverage, the original seventy-five thousand became immediately repayable.”
Daniel scoffed.
“Seventy-five thousand against nine hundred thousand in debt isn’t much leverage.”
“No.”
Charles looked at me.
“That wasn’t the leverage.”
Kendra had reached the final pages.
Suddenly she stopped.
“Oh.”
I turned.
“What?”
She looked at Charles.
“You haven’t told her about the confession.”
My stomach tightened.
“What confession?”
Charles didn’t answer.
Kendra handed me the agreement.
Attached to the back was a separate signed statement.
Travis had acknowledged that he had taken money from my business during the early years.
Forty-three thousand dollars.
Exactly what Charles had mentioned earlier.
My hands started shaking.
“He admitted this?”
“Yes.”
“Dad knew?”
“Yes.”
“And he never told me?”
“He made Travis repay it.”
I looked at the document again.
“Repay it how?”
Charles pointed to the bank records.
“The seventy-five thousand Henry transferred wasn’t simply cash given to Travis.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Twenty-five thousand went to me.”
“I know.”
“Forty-three thousand went back into your company through corrected vendor accounts.”
I stared at him.
“And the rest?”
“Legal costs and settlement expenses.”
Daniel leaned against the desk.
“So Dad made it look like he paid Travis seventy-five thousand.”
“Yes.”
“But most of the money repaired what Travis had stolen.”
“Yes.”
The story Travis told Rachel had been built around a real transaction.
That was why it sounded convincing.
He took one true fact and wrapped it in a lie.
I looked at the signed confession.
“Why keep this secret?”
“Henry didn’t want you to know your husband had stolen from the company you were trying to build.”
“That wasn’t his decision to make.”
“No.”
Charles looked ashamed.
“We all made decisions for you.”
The sentence landed harder than I expected.
My father.
Charles.
Travis.
Even when they believed they were protecting me, they had decided which truths I was strong enough to handle.
And I had repeated the same mistake with Brittany.
Different intentions.
Same silence.
Brittany appeared in the doorway.
I turned sharply.
“You were supposed to stay downstairs.”
“I got tired of everyone deciding what I was allowed to hear.”
No one had an answer to that.
She entered.
Then looked at Charles.
“Did my dad steal from Mom?”
Charles lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Forty-three thousand dollars.”
“And Grandpa fixed it?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mom know?”
“No.”
Brittany looked at me.
For once, neither of us needed to explain ourselves.
We had both been protected by secrets until those secrets became weapons.
Then Brittany asked:
“What happened to the nine hundred thousand?”
Charles looked uncomfortable.
“Some investors were repaid.”
“By Dad?”
“Some.”
“Who paid the rest?”
Silence.
I knew the answer before Charles said it.
“Henry.”
My chest tightened.
“How much?”
“Just over six hundred thousand.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Dad paid six hundred thousand dollars of Travis’s debts?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To prevent innocent investors from losing everything.”
That sounded like my father too.
“And Travis?”
“Henry required him to sign another repayment agreement.”
Kendra’s head snapped up.
“Another agreement?”
Charles nodded.
“Where is it?”
He looked toward the brown envelope.
“There should be a second compartment.”
Kendra checked.
Nothing.
Charles frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“What was in it?” I asked.
“The repayment note.”
“For six hundred thousand?”
“Plus interest.”
Daniel laughed in disbelief.
“You’re telling us Travis owes Dad’s estate more than six hundred thousand dollars?”
“Not the estate.”
Charles looked at me.
“Henry assigned the note before he died.”
“To whom?”
He hesitated.
Then:
“To Brittany’s trust.”
Nobody moved.
Brittany stared at him.
“My father owes me money?”
“Technically, he owes the trust.”
“How much now?”
Charles looked at Kendra.
“I haven’t calculated accrued interest.”
She was already opening her laptop.
“What was the rate?”
“Four percent.”
“Term?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Payments?”
“He stopped making them after Henry died.”
I stared at Charles.
“Stopped?”
“He made payments?”
“For approximately eighteen months.”
“How did I never know?”
“Henry instructed that the payments go into an account controlled by the trust administrator.”
Kendra typed quickly.
Then stopped.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
“If Charles’s numbers are correct…”
She turned the laptop.
“With unpaid principal and accrued interest, Travis could owe the trust somewhere around eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Brittany sat down.
“So he tried to get control of my trust…”
Her voice faded.
I understood.
“He wasn’t only trying to reach the assets.”
Kendra nodded.
“If he gained enough influence over Brittany or convinced her to assign certain interests…”
“He might try to negotiate away his own debt.”
“Exactly.”
Brittany covered her face.
“Oh my God.”
Her father had encouraged her to reject me.
He had convinced her to move into his house.
He had made her sign documents she didn’t understand.
And all the while, he owed a substantial debt to the very trust he was trying to access.
But something still bothered me.
“The repayment agreement is missing.”
Charles stood.
“It was here.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Two months ago.”
“Who had access?”
“Only me.”
Kendra looked around.
“Anyone else have a key?”
Charles didn’t answer immediately.
“Charles?”
“My former office manager.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
And the expression on his face told me I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Rachel.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
“She worked here before she worked for you.”
I stared at him.
“How did I not know that?”
“She used her maiden name then.”
Brittany looked confused.
“What was it?”
Charles answered.
“Rachel Lawson.”
Kendra went completely still.
“Lawson?”
“Yes.”
I thought about the notary who had stamped Brittany’s assignment.
Eric Lawson.
Kendra asked the question.
“Is Eric her brother?”
Charles nodded.
The room became silent.
Rachel had accessed the trust.
Her brother had notarized the assignment.
And now the document proving Travis owed Brittany’s trust nearly eight hundred thousand dollars was missing from an office Rachel could once access.
I pulled out my phone.
Rachel had sent nothing since our earlier conversation.
I called.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Brittany’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
“It’s Dad.”
“Don’t answer,” Daniel said.
Brittany looked at me.
I didn’t tell her what to do.
After a moment, she answered and put the call on speaker.
“Hello?”
Travis sounded strangely calm.
“Britt, I need you to listen to me.”
“What do you want?”
“I know you’re with your mother.”
She looked at me.
“How?”
“I know where everyone is.”
Daniel walked toward the window.
Travis continued.
“They’re telling you stories about old debts.”
Brittany’s face hardened.
“So you know about the repayment agreement.”
Silence.
Then:
“It isn’t enforceable.”
Kendra mouthed:
He knows.
Brittany swallowed.
“Did you owe Grandpa six hundred thousand dollars?”
“It was more complicated.”
“Why is everything complicated when you’re caught lying?”
His voice sharpened.
“Don’t speak to me like that.”
“Did you owe him?”
“Yes.”
“And now you owe my trust?”
“On paper.”
Brittany closed her eyes.
“Why did you have me sign that assignment?”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Your mother.”
She laughed.
It was a tired, broken sound.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me you owed my trust money?”
Travis said nothing.
“Dad?”
“I was going to explain everything after we got control.”
We.
Not you.
Brittany heard it too.
“After we got control?”
Travis realized the mistake.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is.”
She ended the call.
Nobody spoke.
Then Kendra’s laptop chimed.
An email.
From the trust administrator.
She opened it.
Her expression changed instantly.
“What?”
“The repayment note.”
“You found it?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Someone attempted to file a satisfaction of debt.”
My heart began pounding.
“What does that mean?”
“Someone submitted paperwork claiming Travis’s debt had already been paid in full.”
Brittany stood.
“Was it?”
“No.”
“Who submitted it?”
Kendra scrolled.
Then went still.
The document had been notarized.
One name appeared at the bottom.
Eric Lawson.
And attached to it was what appeared to be my signature.
I stared at the screen.
“That isn’t mine.”
“I know.”
According to the document, I had personally authorized the cancellation of Travis’s entire debt.
Almost eight hundred thousand dollars.
There was only one problem for whoever had created it.
On the date I supposedly signed it, I hadn’t been in Illinois.
I had been speaking at a real estate conference in New York.
In front of four hundred people.
With photographs.
Video.
Hotel records.
And an entire ballroom full of witnesses.
For the first time since this began, Kendra smiled.
“They made a mistake.”
I looked at the forged signature.
“No.”
I closed the laptop.
“They made several.”
And now, finally, we had something much more serious than a family argument.
We had a forged financial document.
A false notarization.
And nearly eight hundred thousand reasons for someone to make sure Brittany never discovered the truth.
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