Chapter 7: The Man Behind the Money
Dad read the message from his attorney twice before placing his phone facedown on the table.
“Emily, take Kayla upstairs.””
Monica appeared at the top of the staircase.
“No one is going anywhere.””
Dad looked up at her.
“I wasn't asking your permission.””
For once, she didn't have an immediate response.
Kayla followed me into my bedroom, closing the door behind us. Neither of us spoke until we heard Dad walk into his study and shut the door.
Then Kayla sank onto my bed.
“I think I know who Daniel is.””
I turned toward her.
“You said you'd only heard his name.””
“I lied.””
The admission landed between us.
She rubbed her palms against her jeans, her eyes fixed on the carpet.
“About six months ago, I came home early from a friend's house. Mom was in the kitchen with a man I'd never seen before. They were arguing.””
“What were they arguing about?””
“Money. I heard him say something about a deadline and how she couldn't keep moving things around forever.””
My stomach tightened.
“Did you hear his name?””
“Not at first. Then Mom said, ‘Daniel, if Richard discovers what we've done, neither of us will have anything left.’”
I sat beside her.
“What did he say?””
Kayla swallowed.
“He told her that wasn't his problem anymore. He said she'd promised him the house.””
The room seemed to tilt.
“The house?””
“He said something about a loan being secured against it. Mom told him she was handling everything and that he needed to be patient.””
I stared at her.
“And you never told Dad?””
“I was seventeen kinds of stupid,” she whispered.
“I thought they were talking about some business problem. Mom told me the man was an old family friend, and I didn't want to get involved.””
“Did you see him again?””
“Once. A few weeks later, he was sitting in Mom's car outside a shopping center. She was crying. He was holding a folder.””
Kayla pulled out her phone.
“I took a picture of the car because I thought it was strange. I never deleted it.””
She opened her gallery and showed me the image.
A dark blue sedan was parked near the entrance of a shopping center. The driver's window was partially open, and a man in a gray coat sat behind the wheel.
His face was visible in profile.
I didn't recognize him.
But the photograph contained something else: a parking receipt tucked beneath the windshield wiper.
The date was visible.
Four months earlier.
“Can you send this to Dad's attorney?”” I asked.
Kayla nodded.
She forwarded the image, along with the messages about the SUV and the company account.
For several minutes, we sat in silence.
Then Kayla spoke again.
“Emily, if Mom really did all this, do you think she'll go to prison?””
“I don't know.””
“Would you want that?””
I looked at her.
“What I want is my car back. I want Grandma's money returned. I want Dad's accounts protected. And I want to know why someone thought my identity was theirs to use.””
Kayla nodded slowly.
“I wish I'd asked questions sooner.””
“So do I.””
A knock sounded at the door.
Dad entered with a manila folder beneath his arm.
“Kayla, I need you to tell my attorney everything you remember about Daniel Mercer.””
She stood immediately.
“I will.””
“And Emily, I need you to come downstairs. There's something you should see.””
We followed him into the study.
His laptop displayed a company registration document, a list of bank transfers, and several photographs the attorney had obtained from public records.
One photograph showed Daniel Mercer standing outside a commercial office building.
Another showed him beside Monica at a charity fundraising dinner.
They weren't standing close enough to suggest an affair, but their familiarity was unmistakable. Monica's hand rested on his arm, and he was smiling at her as if they shared a private joke.
Dad stared at the photograph.
“They told me they'd met through a business association.””
“When?”” I asked.
“Before I married Monica. She said Daniel was an investor who had helped her with a failed business venture years earlier.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“I never thought much about it.””
His phone rang.
The caller ID showed his attorney's office.
He answered and put it on speakerphone.
“Richard,” the attorney said, “we've confirmed that Daniel Mercer is the registered co-owner of Bennett Executive Mobility. The company was formed shortly before the first disputed transfer.””
“What else have you found?””
“The loan application contains several inconsistencies. Your signature appears to have been digitally inserted into the documents, and Emily's supposed authorization is also under review. The bank has flagged the transaction, but the secured facility remains legally recorded until the dispute is resolved.””
“Can they freeze the funds?””
“They've restricted certain accounts. However, we have reason to believe some of the money was transferred elsewhere.””
Dad closed his eyes briefly.
“How much?””
“At least $112,000 has moved through accounts associated with Mercer. We're still tracing the remaining funds.””
Dad looked at me.
“Keep going.””
The attorney hesitated.
“There's another issue. The property documents suggest that someone submitted a preliminary application to transfer an interest in your house to a separate holding company.””
Dad went completely still.
“An ownership transfer?””
“Not a completed transfer. The filing appears to have been rejected because the required verification wasn't satisfied. But we need to determine who submitted it.””
I felt sick.
Monica hadn't merely risked our home.
She might have been trying to take it.
After the call, Dad leaned back in his chair.
“I need to speak to Monica.””
He found her in the upstairs bedroom, packing a suitcase.
She had folded several dresses and arranged her jewelry in a velvet case. A passport and a stack of papers lay beside the open bag.
Dad stood in the doorway.
“Where are you going?””
Monica continued folding a blouse.
“Somewhere I can think.””
“You're not leaving before we discuss the documents.””
“I have nothing left to discuss with you.””
“Then why are you packing your passport?””
She stopped.
For the first time, her eyes flickered toward the suitcase.
“I'm allowed to travel.””
“Of course you are. But you should understand that the bank has flagged the transactions, and our attorney is working with investigators.””
She closed the suitcase.
“You've already decided I'm guilty.””
“No. I've decided that the evidence requires an explanation.””
Monica walked toward him.
“You know what the problem is, Richard? You always believe the worst about me when Emily is involved.””
“This has nothing to do with choosing between you and Emily.””
“Everything has always been about Emily!””
Her voice echoed down the hallway.
“You paid for her education. You gave her a car when she was struggling. You helped her grandmother whenever she needed anything. And what did you ever do for me?””
Dad looked at her in disbelief.
“I married you. I trusted you. I gave you access to our home and our lives.””
“And you expected me to be grateful forever!””
“I expected you not to forge my signature.””
Her expression crumpled, but only for a moment.
Then she reached into the suitcase and removed a thick envelope.
“You want the truth? Fine. Here it is.””
She threw the envelope onto the bed.
Inside were printed emails, loan documents, and a handwritten letter bearing Daniel Mercer's name.
Dad picked up the letter.
He read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
His hand began to tremble.
“Monica,” he whispered, “what have you done?””
She crossed her arms, tears shining in her eyes.
“Daniel promised me that once the property transfer was complete, Kayla and I would have enough money to start over.””
Dad stared at her.
“You were planning to leave me?””
“I was planning to protect my daughter.””
“With my house?””
“With what I believed I was owed!””
He looked down at the letter again.
Then he turned it over.
On the back was a handwritten note, dated three weeks earlier.
*Once Richard signs the final transfer, Emily's claim becomes irrelevant. Make sure she doesn't discover the second account until we're gone.*
Dad lifted his eyes toward Monica.
“Who wrote this?””
She looked toward the open bedroom door.
And for the first time, she didn't answer.
Because Daniel Mercer had signed the letter.
May you like
But the handwriting in the final sentence wasn't his.
It was hers.
