Chapter 6 - GEORGE’S FLASH DRIVE
The flash drive had one word written on it in faded silver marker.
MATT.
My hands started shaking.
George had been gone four years.
Why was something with Matthew’s name hidden in his coat?
I took it to the study.
My old laptop opened slowly.
The drive contained six folders.
BANK.
INSURANCE.
HOUSE.
MATTHEW.
LETTERS.
PRIVATE.
I almost laughed from nerves.
George had organized his secrets exactly the way he organized everything else.
I clicked MATTHEW.
There were emails.
Dozens.
Most were ten years old.
At first, they looked ordinary.
George helping Matthew with a car loan.
George lending him money for a business investment.
Then the amounts grew.
$8,000.
$12,500.
$20,000.
Another $15,000.
I had never known.
There was one document labeled AGREEMENT.
I opened it.
Matthew acknowledged owing George $61,000.
Below that was a note in George’s handwriting, scanned.
Ellie does not know. I told Matthew this is the last time.
I sat back.
My husband had kept something from me.
That hurt.
Not because of the money.
Because George and I told each other almost everything.
I opened the LETTERS folder.
There was one file addressed to me.
ELLIE - IF YOU FIND THIS.
My throat closed.
I clicked it.
It was only one page.
Ellie,
If you’re reading this, then I probably never got brave enough to tell you.
Matthew has been in financial trouble more than once.
I helped because he is our son, but I’m afraid helping too much taught him that consequences always disappear when family steps in.
I did not tell you because I knew you would worry, and because I was ashamed that I had hidden the earlier loans.
That was wrong.
Please don’t make my mistake.
Love him.
Help him when helping does not destroy you.
But never hand him your future to save him from his present.
You matter too.
George.
I pressed both hands over my mouth.
For several minutes, I cried.
Not pretty tears.
Not movie tears.
The kind that make your chest hurt.
George had seen this coming.
Not Jessica.
Not the forged deed.
But Matthew’s pattern.
He had known our son kept expecting rescue.
I opened the BANK folder.
Loan statements.
Transfers.
An old credit report.
Then one recent file appeared at the bottom.
Created eight months before George died.
PRIVATE_NOTE_M.
I clicked.
It was a scanned handwritten note.
If I die before this is resolved, Matthew must not be given direct access to the house without independent financial advice. He is vulnerable when desperate.
My skin went cold.
George had planned to revise the trust.
But cancer moved faster.
I kept searching.
Then I found a spreadsheet.
At the bottom was a name.
VICTOR SHAW.
I stared at it.
No.
The name could not be a coincidence.
I opened the row.
Date: seven years earlier.
Amount: $35,000.
Borrower: Matthew Porter.
Lender: Victor Shaw.
My husband had written one final note beside it.
Paid in full by George Porter.
Do not repeat.
My son had lied again.
He told me he had met Victor once.
George had already paid that man for Matthew seven years ago.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
“Ellie, are you somewhere private?”
“Yes.”
“The bank sent us the power of attorney copy.”
“And?”
“The notary seal is fake.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel continued.
“But that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?”
“The witness listed on the document died three years ago.”
I gripped the desk.
“Who?”
He gave me a name.
Robert Porter.
George’s older brother.
My brother-in-law.
Dead three years.
Someone had used a dead man to witness my fake signature.
May you like
And only a handful of people knew where Robert’s old signature could easily be found.
Matthew was one of them.
