Chapter 8 - THE FAMILY MEETING
Margaret sat at the head of the table when we arrived.
Same room.
Same chandelier.
Same mahogany table.
But the recycling bin was gone.
Twenty-three relatives were not there this time.
Only immediate family.
Dad.
Mom.
Charles.
Rebecca.
Brooke.
Victor’s chair was empty.
Elena sat beside me.
I noticed Margaret staring at her.
“You brought her.”
Elena smiled.
“I’m his wife, Margaret. You’ll survive.”
Charles coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.
Mother didn’t appreciate it.
She opened a folder.
“I have called this meeting because Daniel is attempting to seize control of Whitmore assets.”
I leaned back.
“You mean the assets I legally manage?”
“You manipulated an elderly man.”
“Grandfather wrote the trust language twelve years before he died.”
Mother ignored me.
“He has frozen the Ridge transfer.”
Charles looked at me.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because money is missing.”
Brooke stiffened.
I saw it.
“So,” I continued, “before anyone complains about inheritance, maybe we should talk about Merrick Consulting.”
Brooke shot to her feet.
“This is insane.”
Mother held up a hand.
“Sit.”
Brooke sat.
Interesting.
Margaret was still controlling her.
I placed the torn blue ledger page on the table.
Dad went pale.
Charles leaned closer.
“What is that?”
“Part of Grandfather’s private accounting.”
Brooke’s voice cracked.
“You stole that.”
“From my property?”
Mother smiled.
Then she reached beside her chair.
And placed a blue ledger on the table.
My pulse jumped.
“There,” she said.
“You wanted this so badly.”
I stood.
“Where did you get it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Arthur kept ridiculous notes.”
She pushed it toward the center.
“You think this proves I stole something?”
I opened it.
Pages had been removed.
I looked at her.
“This has been altered.”
“Or Arthur made mistakes.”
“Elena.”
My wife placed copies of bank records beside it.
“Then Arthur’s mistakes somehow match four years of payments.”
Brooke stood again.
“I’m leaving.”
Charles grabbed her arm.
“Sit down.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Two million dollars went through your company.”
Brooke’s eyes flashed.
“It was consulting work.”
“For what?”
“Property management.”
Charles laughed.
“You’ve never managed anything except your Instagram account.”
“Go to hell.”
Mother slammed her hand down.
“Enough!”
Silence.
Then she turned to me.
“You came here pretending to care about theft.”
“I do.”
“No.”
She slid another folder across the table.
“You care about humiliating me because you’re obsessed with proving Lily is equal to blood family.”
Elena stood.
“Careful.”
Mother opened the folder.
Inside were copies of adoption documents.
At first glance, they looked real.
Then Elena picked one up.
“This is fake.”
Mother smiled.
“It says you failed to disclose a prior arrest.”
Elena laughed.
“I’ve never been arrested.”
“You were detained at a protest.”
“Questioned for twenty minutes. No arrest. Fully disclosed.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes.”
Mother’s smile weakened.
Elena pulled out her phone.
“Our adoption attorney can.”
I added, “So can the court file.”
Margaret closed the folder.
She had expected panic.
Instead, Elena leaned forward.
“You forged government-related records to attack my daughter?”
Mother’s face hardened.
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“Then tell us who gave them to you.”
Silence.
Brooke stared at the table.
I saw it.
“Brooke?”
Her eyes lifted.
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Rebecca whispered, “Brooke.”
She began crying.
Mother snapped, “Do not.”
That did it.
Brooke looked at her.
“You said nobody would get hurt.”
Mother’s face turned white.
Charles whispered, “What the hell?”
Brooke stood.
“I created Merrick because Aunt Margaret told me it was how families protected money.”
Mother lunged verbally.
“You ungrateful little idiot.”
“And Victor moved the money!”
“Shut your mouth.”
“And Uncle Thomas signed the approvals!”
Everyone looked at Dad.
He closed his eyes.
Mother stood.
“Brooke, sit down.”
“No.”
Brooke backed away.
“You told me Daniel would never audit anything.”
I looked at my father.
“Dad?”
He opened his eyes.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“I signed them.”
Elena stared at him.
“You knew?”
Dad’s voice broke.
“I knew the companies were fake.”
Mother screamed,
“Thomas!”
He turned to her.
“And I know who sent the picture of Lily.”
The room went silent.
I stood.
“Who?”
May you like
Dad looked straight at Margaret.
And pointed.
