Chapter 8 - THE COMPANY THAT DIDN’T EXIST
Harrison turned toward Sloan.
“Don’t what?”
She didn’t answer.
I looked between them.
Interesting.
They had secrets from each other.
That meant there was still room for the truth to tear them apart.
I opened the folder.
“How much money have you taken from me?”
Harrison went pale.
“Mom—”
“Number.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Number.”
Sloan stepped forward.
“You need to calm down.”
I turned on her.
“Say that again and you can pack tonight.”
She stopped.
Good.
I faced Harrison.
“The bank showed me forty-seven thousand dollars in transfers.”
His shoulders dropped.
“And a ninety-two-thousand-dollar home equity line.”
He closed his eyes.
Sloan whispered:
“Oh, God.”
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
She shook her head quickly.
“I knew about the transfers. I did not know about the house.”
Harrison snapped.
“Sloan.”
“What?”
“You told me your mom knew!”
My chest tightened.
There it was.
Not innocence.
Just different levels of guilt.
I pointed at Harrison.
“Start talking.”
He sat down.
For once, he looked like the little boy who had broken Robert’s garage window with a baseball and tried to hide the bat.
“I was trying to build something.”
“What?”
“A business.”
“Bennett Strategic Solutions?”
“Yes.”
“What does it do?”
“Marketing. Lead generation. Investments.”
“Investments?”
His eyes moved.
I caught it.
“What investments?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I met some people.”
Sloan laughed bitterly.
“People? Is that what you’re calling them now?”
He glared at her.
“Shut up.”
“No. You told me those deals were guaranteed.”
I turned toward her.
“What deals?”
She looked at Harrison.
He shook his head.
“Sloan.”
She ignored him.
“Northpoint.”
My pulse jumped.
“Northpoint Capital Partners?”
Both of them went silent.
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
“What is Northpoint?”
Harrison stood.
“Mom, it was supposed to be a short-term investment.”
“With my money?”
“I was going to put everything back.”
“That is what thieves say.”
He flinched.
“I’m not a thief.”
“You changed my banking recovery number.”
His face hardened.
“You never check that stuff.”
“You intercepted my statements.”
“I handled the mail.”
“You forged my signature.”
Silence.
That was the one.
He couldn’t talk around it.
I stepped closer.
“You put a loan on my house.”
“I needed capital.”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
I had never slapped my son before.
Not when he was six.
Not when he was sixteen.
Not when he was thirty-five.
He stared at me.
So did Sloan.
My hand burned.
I did not apologize.
“Your father worked thirty years to help pay for this house.”
His eyes filled.
“Don’t bring Dad into this.”
“I will bring your father into every second of this.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand that you stole from your mother.”
“I was trying to fix things!”
“What things?”
That stopped him.
Sloan looked away.
I noticed.
“What things, Harrison?”
He sat again.
His voice dropped.
“Debt.”
“How much?”
No answer.
“Harrison.”
“About eighty thousand.”
Sloan snapped.
“You told me forty.”
He turned on her.
“I said around forty.”
“You said forty!”
“What debt?”
He looked at the floor.
“Credit cards. Business loans. Personal loans.”
“How?”
He said nothing.
Sloan answered.
“Sports betting.”
I stared at him.
Harrison’s face twisted.
“It wasn’t just betting.”
“Oh, right,” Sloan said. “There was crypto too.”
“Stop.”
“And that stupid investment group.”
“Shut up!”
“Don’t yell at me.”
My son stood so fast the coffee table shook.
“You spent plenty!”
Sloan laughed.
“You told me we had money!”
“You kept asking for things!”
“And you kept buying them!”
They were screaming now.
About vacations.
Shoes.
Restaurants.
Debt.
Lies.
I listened until one sentence stopped me cold.
Sloan shouted:
“You said once your mother was gone, the house would cover everything anyway!”
Silence.
Harrison’s face went white.
Sloan covered her mouth.
I looked at my son.
“What did you say?”
“Mom—”
“What did you say about me being gone?”
He stepped toward me.
“Not like that.”
I backed away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then explain.”
He looked terrified.
Not angry anymore.
Terrified.
May you like
Then Sloan whispered:
“Tell her about the life insurance.”
