Chapter 10 - THE ACCOUNT IN TAYLOR’S NAME
The shell company was called TC Holdings.
Taylor Carter.
Same initials.
Same birth date on the registration.
Same old address.
Even the electronic signature looked real.
“They stole my identity,” Taylor said.
Detective Park wasn’t convinced yet.
“Then we prove it.”
Bank records showed the account had been opened online.
The authentication phone number belonged to a prepaid device.
But the recovery email changed everything.
It belonged to Jason.
Taylor stared at her brother through the hospital-room window.
“He did this?”
“We need to ask him,” Park said.
Jason looked exhausted when we entered.
Taylor didn’t waste time.
“Why is your email attached to a company in my name?”
His expression told us the answer.
“You knew?”
“I helped create it.”
Taylor slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Jason didn’t complain.
“You used my identity?”
“I was scared.”
“You framed me!”
“Mom told me it was temporary.”
“For two million dollars?”
“I never got two million!”
“Where is it?”
Jason looked toward Park.
“Richard moved it.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Taylor stepped closer.
“You better start knowing.”
Jason finally broke.
He explained everything.
Richard had needed a clean-looking company connected to the family.
Jason created TC Holdings using documents Evelyn stole from Taylor’s desk.
The money arrived.
Then Richard transferred it through three foreign accounts.
Jason received seventy-five thousand for his role.
“And you knew Lily was being hurt?” I asked.
“Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
“Two weeks ago.”
My anger exploded.
“You knew for two weeks?”
“I told Mom to stop!”
“You should have called us!”
“I was afraid Richard would expose everything.”
“So you protected yourself.”
Jason lowered his head.
“Yes.”
That single word was more honest than every excuse Evelyn had made.
Park leaned forward.
“What else are you hiding?”
Jason swallowed.
“There’s a second camera.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Richard installed one.”
“Where?”
“Inside Mark and Taylor’s house.”
My skin crawled.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“He wanted recordings of you fighting.”
Taylor stared at me.
Every argument.
Every private conversation.
Potentially recorded.
We rushed home with police.
Officers searched for nearly an hour.
Then one found it.
Inside a smoke detector above the kitchen.
A hidden camera.
Park removed its memory card.
Back at the station, technicians recovered dozens of videos.
Most were useless.
Dinner.
Homework.
Arguments about bills.
Ordinary marriage.
Then one clip appeared.
Evelyn entered our kitchen alone.
She opened Taylor’s purse.
Removed documents.
Photographed them.
Then replaced them.
Another clip.
She took my spare office key.
Another.
She searched Lily’s backpack.
And then the final recording.
Evelyn stood beneath the camera speaking on the phone.
“Yes,” she said.
“I understand.”
Pause.
“No, Richard.”
Another pause.
Then her face hardened.
“If the freezer doesn’t work, I’ll find another way.”
Taylor stopped breathing.
I looked at Park.
“What does she mean, another way?”
Park didn’t answer.
Because another person entered the frame.
May you like
Lily.
And she had heard everything.
