Chapter 5 - The Husband Who Started the Lie
Rebecca heard everything.
Daniel did not deny it.
“I asked Margaret to look,” he said.
Rebecca stared at her husband.
“You sent her into my bedroom?”
“I thought money was missing.”
“So you searched me?”
“I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of being used again.”
His first wife had emptied a joint investment account before filing for
divorce.
Rebecca knew the story.
She had spent three years proving she was not the same woman.
Apparently she had failed.
“You could have asked me.”
“I did.”
“No. You accused me.”
Daniel lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
Rebecca laughed through tears.
“Do you know what your family does with that phrase? They use it like a
mop after they throw mud everywhere.”
Henry stood quietly.
This was no longer his test.
It was his son’s marriage.
Rebecca removed her ring again.
This time she placed it on the desk.
Daniel’s eyes widened.
“Rebecca.”
“I told you I wouldn’t leave over Vanessa.”
“Please.”
“I didn’t say anything about leaving because of you.”
She took Molly upstairs.
Daniel turned on Margaret.
“You told me you’d only check the statements.”
“I did what was necessary.”
“You used my fear.”
“You gave me permission.”
“I did not give you permission to steal her passwords.”
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“Stop pretending you are innocent because you regret being caught.”
Henry almost admired the accuracy.
Daniel sank into a chair.
Frank entered with more news.
The transfers from Rebecca’s account had been made by Vanessa using
credentials Margaret photographed.
But the money did not remain with Vanessa.
It moved again.
To a company called North Bell Consulting.
Henry recognized the name.
His late wife Eleanor had once hired North Bell for interior design
work.
“Who owns it now?”
Frank hesitated.
“Eleanor Whitmore Trust.”
Henry stared.
“That trust was dissolved.”
“Apparently not.”
Margaret looked frightened.
Henry noticed.
“Who controls it?”
Frank turned the screen.
Trustee: Margaret Whitmore.
Daniel stood.
“Aunt Margaret?”
Margaret’s composure cracked.
“It’s not mine.”
“You’re trustee.”
“I was asked to be.”
“By whom?”
She did not answer.
Henry’s voice became quiet.
“Margaret.”
She looked at him.
“Eleanor.”
The name hit him harder than expected.
“My wife has been dead eleven years.”
“She created a private trust before she died.”
“Why?”
“For Molly.”
Everyone froze.
Rebecca had stopped in the doorway.
“What did you say?”
Margaret looked at her.
“Not your Molly.”
Henry felt the room change.
Margaret explained.
Eleanor had discovered Daniel’s first wife was pregnant shortly before
their divorce.
The baby was supposedly lost.
Eleanor never believed it.
She created a private trust in case a child existed.
Daniel stared.
“My first wife told me she miscarried.”
“She lied.”
“Where is the child?”
Margaret whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Then why were you moving Rebecca’s money into that trust?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Vanessa was.”
Margaret nodded.
“Vanessa found Eleanor’s papers last summer. She became convinced there
was another heir.”
Henry understood.
Vanessa feared a sibling.
She wanted control of the trust before the missing child appeared.
Daniel looked sick.
“My daughter stole from my wife because she was afraid I had another
child?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca said, “And you knew?”
“I knew she was looking.”
“You let her?”
“I thought it would keep her occupied.”
Henry stared at his sister.
“You watched a frightened, unstable young woman become obsessed with
inheritance and decided it was entertainment.”
“I was trying to manage her.”
“No. You manage spreadsheets. People require honesty.”
Margaret looked away.
That night the police released Vanessa pending investigation.
She did not return home.
Daniel sat beside the Christmas tree until dawn.
Henry joined him.
“I failed her,” Daniel said.
“Vanessa?”
“Both of them.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at his father.
“You don’t have to agree that fast.”
“You wanted honesty.”
“I wanted comfort.”
“Wrong father.”
Daniel smiled sadly.
After a long silence, he asked, “Do you think Rebecca will come back?”
“She hasn’t left the house.”
“You know what I mean.”
Henry did.
“No.”
Daniel’s face fell.
Henry continued.
“Not unless you become someone she can safely come back to.”
At six, Molly entered carrying a blanket.
She put it around Henry’s shoulders.
“You’re still poor at being nice.”
He smiled.
“I’m practicing.”
She sat beside him.
“Mom cried.”
“I know.”
“Daniel cried too.”
“I know.”
“Are grown-ups always this messy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s disappointing.”
Henry laughed.
Then the front door opened.
A young woman stood outside in the snow.
Maybe twenty-four.
She held a baby.
“Is Daniel Whitmore here?”
Daniel stood.
“Yes.”
The woman looked at him.
“My name is Emily Ross.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“I think you’re my father.”
