Chapter 13 - THIRTY-TWO MILLION DOLLARS
Charles denied everything.
Too quickly.
“Thirty-two million?” he said. “That’s insane.”
We were back at the estate.
Hale sat across from him.
Rebecca stood near the fireplace.
Dad stared out the window.
I placed Arthur’s records on the table.
“Mom told me to ask you.”
“She’s trying to split us.”
“Probably.”
I leaned forward.
“But that doesn’t answer the question.”
Charles rubbed his face.
“I didn’t steal thirty-two million dollars.”
“What did you do?”
Silence.
“Charles.”
He looked at me.
“Grandfather created another trust.”
Dad turned from the window.
“What?”
Charles swallowed.
“A private reserve.”
“For what?”
“Family emergencies.”
“How do you know?”
“Arthur told me.”
My voice hardened.
“He told you and not me?”
“He told me because I asked him for money.”
That sounded more believable.
Charles had always spent too much.
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand.”
Rebecca gasped.
“For what?”
“My business.”
“You said the bank funded it.”
“They did later.”
I shook my head.
“Where is the reserve now?”
Charles looked at Dad.
“Arthur said it would pass outside the main trust.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Hale asked, “Why would Margaret mention thirty-two million?”
Charles hesitated.
“Because that was roughly the balance when Arthur died.”
I stood.
“And you never told anyone?”
“I was ashamed.”
“No. You were hoping to find it.”
His silence answered.
Rebecca whispered, “Jesus, Charles.”
He snapped, “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m judging everybody at this point.”
Fair.
Then Dad said, “Arthur had another child.”
We all turned.
“What?”
Dad looked ancient.
“My half-sister.”
I stared.
“You have a sister?”
“Had.”
“What happened?”
“She died when she was twenty-nine.”
“Children?”
“One.”
The room went silent.
Charles whispered, “A son?”
Dad nodded.
“Michael Reeves.”
My biological father.
I actually laughed.
The family tree had become a knot.
Dad explained.
Arthur had a daughter before his marriage.
The relationship was hidden for years.
Her son, Michael, grew up outside the Whitmore family.
He later had an affair with Margaret.
And I was born.
Arthur wasn’t my grandfather by his son Thomas.
He was my biological great-grandfather through his daughter.
I sat down.
“So I am related to him.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca gave a shaky laugh.
“Mom’s entire blood argument just got even stupider.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then Hale asked the obvious question.
“Where is the thirty-two million reserve?”
Dad looked at me.
“I think Arthur meant it for you.”
“Why?”
“Because legally, you were the bridge between both sides of his family.”
Charles looked sick.
“I spent years trying to find it.”
I looked at him.
“Did Mom know?”
“She found out last year.”
“How?”
“Finch.”
Of course.
Hale’s phone rang.
He stepped away.
When he returned, his expression was serious.
“We found the account.”
“Thirty-two million?”
“Thirty-four-point-six now.”
Nobody spoke.
“Who controls it?” I asked.
Hale looked at me.
“A foundation.”
“What foundation?”
He turned his phone around.
THE LILY REEVES WHITMORE FAMILY FOUNDATION.
My knees nearly gave out.
Elena whispered, “Lily?”
Hale nodded.
“Created two months before Arthur died.”
Charles stared.
“Why her?”
I already knew.
Arthur had met Lily once before he died.
She had been a foster child then.
Elena and I were only beginning the adoption process.
Arthur had watched her sit beneath his desk drawing pictures.
Later, he had asked me one question.
“Are you going to keep her?”
I had said,
“If the court lets us, yes.”
Arthur nodded.
“Then she’s yours.”
Maybe that had been enough.
But Hale wasn’t finished.
“The foundation is locked until a triggering event.”
“What event?”
He read the clause.
“When a member of the Whitmore family publicly or legally denies the child’s equal status within the family.”
Rebecca’s mouth fell open.
Christmas dinner.
The court filing.
Margaret had triggered it herself.
I stared at the paper.
“What happens now?”
Hale looked at me.
“Control transfers to Lily’s legal parents.”
Elena whispered,
“Oh my God.”
Then the front door slammed.
Brooke rushed inside.
“Daniel!”
“What?”
“Your mother made bail.”
May you like
My stomach tightened.
“And she knows about the foundation.”
