Chapter 5 - The Cost of a Signature
My mother agreed to meet at a diner far from downtown. She arrived without jewelry, wearing a plain coat I'd never seen. For once she looked like an ordinary woman trying not to be noticed.
"You look exhausted," she said.
"I slept three hours."
"Then this isn't the time."
"You signed the withdrawal."
Her hands tightened around her coffee. "Your father asked me to."
"Thirty-two families lost their rooms."
"I know."
"Then why?"
She stared at the window. "Richard told me the foundation account was temporarily frozen. He said the pledge would be restored within forty-eight hours."
"Was it?"
"No."
"Did you ask him why?"
"Every day."
I wanted to hate her. I hated that part of me still wanted her to say she had tried.
"The money was Grandma's," I said. "The trust was separate."
"Eleanor protected that account. Richard couldn't touch it without my authorization."
"So you gave it to him."
She nodded once, so slightly I almost missed it.
"And now he says I stole it."
"I begged him to stop the speech."
"You stood beside me and smiled."
Her eyes filled. "If I contradicted him, he would have accused me too."
"And you chose yourself."
She didn't argue.
My phone buzzed. Gabriel: Do not sign anything. Richard's attorneys requested an emergency conservatorship evaluation.
I slid the screen across the table.
Mom's face drained. "He promised he wouldn't do that."
"You've heard that before."
"He'll say you've been acting impulsively. He'll use your unpaid loans and the appointment you made with a counselor after Grandma died."
The cruelty of it was precise. He knew the most vulnerable things about me because I'd trusted him with them.
"Will you testify?" I asked.
Mom looked up. "Against your father?"
"For the truth."
She swallowed. "I need time."
"Families in Eastbank didn't get time."
I stood. She caught my sleeve and pressed a folded receipt into my hand.
"The money didn't stay in the Renewal Fund," she whispered. "Martin moved it again. I found this in Richard's study."
It was a wire confirmation to a holding company called Ashdown Partners. The account reference ended in 4418, the same four digits in Grandma's ledger.
"What is Ashdown?"
"A company Richard says he doesn't own."
May you like
When I looked back, Mom had already slipped out through the kitchen exit. On the booth seat she'd left her phone, screen lit with a message from Dad.
If Sophie knows about Ashdown, Claire goes down with us.
