PART 3
It showed a series of large withdrawals from Dad’s primary investment account.
Not one.
Not two.
There were twelve.
All made over the previous eight months.
My aunt covered her mouth.
Uncle Raymond stepped closer.
“Those amounts…”
“Yes,” Samuel said quietly. “They total $486,000.”
A murmur swept through the room.
Marcus stared at the pages.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
Samuel turned another page.
“It proves quite a lot.”
The next document was a transaction authorization.
Marcus’s name appeared at the bottom.
His face changed.
“That’s not my signature.”
I said nothing.
Samuel placed a second document beside it.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Each contained Marcus’s signature.
Each authorized another transfer.
Marcus suddenly pointed at me.
“She forged them.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Exactly. She knew Dad was sick. She probably—”
“Stop.”
Samuel’s voice wasn’t loud.
But the entire room went quiet.
He reached into the folder and removed a sealed envelope.
“Before anyone makes another accusation, I suggest you look at the dates.”
He spread the documents across the desk.
The first transfer had happened nine months before Dad’s hospitalization.
The second was seven months before his diagnosis.
The third was five months before anyone knew Dad was seriously ill.
Marcus stared at the dates.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I watched him carefully.
Because I knew there was more.
Much more.
Dad had spent months quietly gathering evidence.
He had known someone was draining his accounts.
And he had known exactly who.
Samuel removed another document.
“This is a letter from your father.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
Samuel looked at him.
“You haven’t even read it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You do.”
Samuel unfolded the letter.
Then he began reading.
“My children,
If you are reading this together, then I am no longer able to explain these things myself.
I ask you to listen before anger takes over.
Elena will be blamed for what she did not do.
Marcus will claim what he believes belongs to him.
Neither statement should be accepted without evidence.
I have spent the last year discovering where my money went.
I found the answer.
And I was deeply disappointed.”
Marcus’s breathing became heavier.
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
“Marcus…”
He pulled away.
Samuel continued.
“I did not confront the person responsible immediately because I needed proof.
I also needed to know whether the person would stop once the opportunity disappeared.
They did not.
Instead, they became more ambitious.”
Marcus suddenly walked backward.
“This is ridiculous.”
Nobody responded.
Samuel turned another page.
“On March 14, $42,000 was transferred from my investment account to a company called Rowe Strategic Holdings.”
Marcus’s eyes widened.
That was the first time I saw genuine fear.
Uncle Raymond looked at him.
“Isn’t that your company?”
Marcus swallowed.
“It was temporary.”
“Temporary?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“You don’t understand business.”
“I understand bank statements.”
The room went silent again.
Samuel continued.
“On April 2, another $37,500 was transferred to the same company.”
Then another.
And another.
By the time he finished reading, the total had reached nearly half a million dollars.
Marcus shook his head.
“Dad gave me that money.”
I finally spoke.
“No.”
“He promised it to me.”
“No.”
“He said I could use it.”
“No.”
Marcus slammed his fist onto the desk.
“You weren’t there!”
“I was there.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
“What?”
I took a breath.
“Every time Dad asked me to sit with him after you left.”
Marcus stared at me.
Dad had told me everything.
Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
The first time he mentioned missing money, I thought he was confused.
Then he showed me the bank statement.
Then he showed me another.
Eventually, I realized Dad wasn’t forgetting anything.
He was documenting everything.
Marcus’s voice became quieter.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I almost laughed.
“You knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“You knew enough to keep doing it.”
Vanessa stepped between us.
“This is absurd. Marcus would never steal from his own father.”
Samuel looked at her.
“No one is accusing him of theft.”
Vanessa visibly relaxed.
Then Samuel added:
“The bank is.”
Her face went pale.
The two investigators who had remained silent near the doorway finally stepped forward.
One of them introduced himself as Daniel Brooks.
“We’ve been reviewing the account activity for several weeks.”
Marcus stared at him.
“Why?”
Daniel glanced toward Samuel.
“Because your father requested an internal fraud investigation before his death.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Marcus looked at me.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
