PART 4
For several seconds after the call ended, nobody in the room moved.
I could hear the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking.
One.
Two.
Three.
Wren stirred in my arms.
I lowered my eyes to her tiny face.
She had no idea that the adults surrounding her were discussing money, custody, marriage, and betrayal.
She only knew that she was hungry.
That was enough to bring me back to reality.
“Dad,” I said quietly, “I need to know everything.”
He nodded.
Elena closed her binder.
“Then we start at the beginning.”
I looked at her.
“Three years ago, when you married Roland, your grandfather’s trust had approximately forty-eight million dollars in assets.”
I stared at her.
I knew my family was comfortable.
I knew my father owned several businesses.
But forty-eight million?
I had never understood the scale.
Elena continued.
“Most of that money was protected. Roland couldn’t touch it.”
“Unless I gave him access.”
“Yes.”
I remembered the conversation from three years ago.
Roland sitting beside me with a glass of wine.
“You know, Simone, marriage means trust.”
I had smiled.
“I trust you.”
He had smiled back.
Now that memory felt like a knife.
Elena continued.
“After your wedding, Roland began asking questions.”
“What questions?”
“About your investments. Your property. Your grandfather’s estate.”
I frowned.
“He told me he was just trying to understand our finances.”
“He was trying to understand yours.”
My father looked away.
I suddenly felt sick.
“How long have you known?”
My father looked at me.
“I suspected something wasn’t right for almost a year.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted proof.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
I remembered.
My father had once asked me:
“Does Roland ever ask you to sign things you haven’t read?”
I had laughed.
I told him:
“He’s my husband, Dad.”
My father had replied:
“That’s exactly why you should read them.”
I had ignored him.
Now I wished I hadn’t.
Elena opened another folder.
“This is where Faye comes in.”
She slid a document toward me.
It was a business registration.
I read the name.
Caldwell Strategic Holdings.
My eyes widened.
“What’s this?”
“A company incorporated eighteen months ago.”
“Who owns it?”
“Elena?”
She looked directly at me.
“The registered owner is Faye Mercer.”
My stomach tightened.
“But why does that matter?”
“Because Faye’s company received several payments from a consulting company controlled by Roland.”
I stared at the document.
“How much?”
“Approximately eight hundred thousand dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“Eight hundred thousand?”
My father nodded.
“And that’s only what we’ve traced so far.”
I looked at the video again.
Faye.
Roland.
His mother.
The stranger with the briefcase.
They weren’t having a family meeting.
They were planning something.
“What was the transfer?”
Elena answered.
“A proposed custodial investment agreement.”
“For Wren?”
“Yes.”
“What would it do?”
“If you signed it, certain assets belonging to Wren would be managed by a trustee selected by Roland.”
“Who?”
“Faye.”
I stared at her.
“So Faye would control my daughter’s money?”
“That’s what the document appears to establish.”
My heart pounded.
“But Wren doesn’t have money.”
My father looked at me.
“She does now.”
I turned toward him.
“What do you mean?”
He gave me a sad smile.
“Your grandfather created a trust for his grandchildren.”
I looked at Wren.
“She inherited?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
My father hesitated.
“Enough to make certain people very interested in her.”
I closed my eyes.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The sudden concern about Wren.
The questions about her future.
The strange documents Roland had brought home.
His insistence that I sign something “for the baby’s protection.”
I had refused because I was exhausted.
He had become angry.
Now I understood why.
He wasn’t trying to protect my daughter.
He was trying to control what she had inherited.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
I sat beside Wren’s crib and watched her breathe.
Around two in the morning, my father came into the nursery.
“You should rest.”
“I can’t.”
He sat beside me.
“Simone.”
“I keep thinking about how stupid I was.”
“You weren’t stupid.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Because you loved him.”
I looked at my daughter.
“What if he really doesn’t love me?”
My father didn’t answer.
I continued.
“What if he only married me because of the money?”
My father looked at me.
“That’s something only Roland can answer.”
“I want him to.”
“Then make him.”
I looked at my father.
“How?”
“Stop protecting him from the consequences of his own choices.”
The next morning, I called Roland.
He answered immediately.
“Simone?”
“We need to talk.”
“Can I come see you?”
“No.”
He went silent.
“You’re going to come to my father’s office.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want another conversation where you tell me one thing and your family tells me another.”
He swallowed.
“Okay.”
“And Roland?”
“Yes?”
“Come alone.”
He hesitated.
Then said:
“I will.”
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