PART7

“Not without valid authorization. And if your signature was forged, that’s a separate matter we need to investigate.”

“Can we stop the development?”

“If your trust owns the land and no valid authorization exists, we can take immediate steps to protect the property and challenge any unauthorized claims.”

I nodded.

“What about my father?”

Laura closed the folder.

“Don’t confront him with anything else until we have preserved the evidence.”

Daniel placed another document on the table.

“I found the investors.”

There were three.

One private investment fund.

One local development company.

And a private lender.

The total money they had committed to the proposed development was approximately $2.8 million.

I looked at the figures.

“How much of that money came from my family?”

“At least $180,000 that we can currently trace,” Daniel said. “We’re still investigating the rest.”

Laura examined the documents.

“There’s another problem.”

“What?”

“The agreement your father circulated appears to promise the lender a secured interest in the property.”

“But he couldn’t offer that.”

“Exactly.”

I stared at the page.

“Then why would anyone lend him money?”

Laura looked at me.

“Because they believed he had authority to negotiate on behalf of the owner.”

I felt sick.

“Who told them that?”

“We’ll find out.”

At 9:15 a.m., my phone rang.

Gabriel.

I let it ring twice before answering.

“Hello?”

“Chloe, can we meet?”

“Where?”

“Somewhere away from the hotel.”

“Why?”

He hesitated.

“Because Dad is furious.”

I almost laughed.

“That’s not unusual.”

“This is different.”

“Explain.”

“He found out I spoke to you.”

I remained silent.

Gabriel lowered his voice.

“He took my laptop.”

“What?”

“He says I betrayed the family. He also said that if I don’t get the money by Monday, everyone will lose everything.”

I looked at Laura.

She signaled for me to continue listening.

“Gabriel, I need you to answer one question honestly.”

“What?”

“Did you know Dad was using Grandma’s property?”

Silence.

Then he whispered:

“I knew he was talking to investors.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I didn’t know the property belonged to Grandma’s trust.”

“Did you know he was using my name?”

“No.”

“Did you sign anything?”

He hesitated.

“Yes.”

My heart sank.

“What did you sign?”

“A partnership agreement.”

“Did you read it?”

“Not properly.”

I closed my eyes.

“Gabriel.”

“I know.”

“Did you see my name?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“On the guarantee.”

I gripped the edge of the desk.

“And you didn’t question it?”

He sounded ashamed.

“Dad told me you had agreed to help us.”

“When?”

“He said you had promised to support the project but wanted the paperwork completed later.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Gabriel, I never agreed to anything.”

“I know that now.”

“Why didn’t you call me before?”

He was silent.

Then he said something I hadn’t expected.

“Because I believed Dad when he told me you hated us and would never help anyway.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

He continued.

“He said you were rich, but you were selfish. He said Grandma had made you believe you were better than everyone. He told me you would rather watch us fail than give us a chance.”

I looked down.

Those were familiar words.

My father had been telling that story for seven years.

And apparently, he had been telling it to everyone.

“Gabriel, where are you?”

“At home.”

“Can you get away?”

“I think so.”

“Meet me at the hotel at eleven. Bring every document you can access.”

He hesitated.

“Will you help me?”

I took a breath.

“I will help you find out what happened. That is not the same as giving you money.”

“I understand.”

For the first time since he had walked into my hotel, I believed him.

At eleven, Gabriel arrived alone.

He looked exhausted.

His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes were red, and he carried a small backpack.

I took him into my office.

Laura joined us.

Gabriel placed his laptop on the desk.

“I copied some of the files before Dad took it.”

Daniel began reviewing them.

Within minutes, he found something.

“Chloe, look at this.”

He turned the screen toward me.

It was a spreadsheet.

A list of payments.

Names.

Amounts.

Dates.

At the top was a heading:

NORTHBRIDGE PROJECT — CAPITAL REQUIREMENTS.

The first entry was $45,000.

Gabriel’s name.

The second was $75,000.

My parents’ names.

The third was $60,000.

Martha.

Then there was a larger entry.

$1,100,000.

Beside it was a note:

FINAL CAPITAL INJECTION — CHLOE ARÍSTEGUI.

I stared at it.

There was another column.

Under the heading Source of Funds, someone had written:

Sale or refinancing of Olivia Trust property.

I looked at Gabriel.

“Did you know about this?”

He shook his head.

“No. I thought the money was supposed to come from you personally.”

Daniel opened another file.

It contained a proposed payment schedule.

The first payment was due Monday morning.

The second was scheduled for thirty days later.

But the last page contained something that made Laura immediately stop scrolling.

A section titled:

DEFAULT AND PERSONAL LIABILITY.

It listed my name.

My father.

My mother.

And Gabriel.

There was also a signature from a person named Edward Voss.

Laura leaned closer.

“Do you know this man?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“He’s the person who organized the investment meetings.”

Daniel searched the name.

A few seconds later, he looked up.

“Chloe, I think I’ve found the person behind Northbridge.”

He turned the screen toward me.

Edward Voss had previously served as director of two companies that had entered insolvency proceedings.

One had been investigated for misleading investors.

The other had been involved in a property dispute.

But the most disturbing information was on the next page.

There was a photograph.

A man standing beside my father at a private dinner.

I recognized the location.

My grandmother’s old property.

And beside Edward Voss was my aunt Martha.

I looked at Gabriel.

“Did you know they were meeting here?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

I enlarged the photograph.

My father was smiling.

Martha was holding a folder.

And behind them was a banner displaying the name of the proposed development.

The project had already been advertised to investors as though ownership had been secured.

But the land wasn’t theirs.

It was mine.

Or more precisely, it belonged to the trust established for me.

Laura closed the laptop.

“We have enough to begin protecting the trust property. I am contacting the relevant parties and preparing the necessary legal notices.”

Gabriel looked terrified.

“Does this mean we’re going to prison?”

Laura answered carefully.

“That depends on what each person knew, what they signed, and what the investigation establishes. Don’t assume anything. But you need to tell the truth from this point forward.”

Gabriel nodded.

Then he looked at me.

“Chloe, I need to tell you something else.”

I waited.

“Dad has been receiving calls from Edward Voss every night.”

“About what?”

“The money.”

“Anything else?”

He hesitated.

“Edward said if the money wasn’t delivered by Monday, he would make sure the entire family paid.”

I stared at him.

“How?”

Gabriel looked down.

“He mentioned the hotel.”

I felt the familiar coldness return.

My father had threatened to call the owner.

Now I understood why.

He had probably been trying to convince everyone that he could use my position to force the transaction through.

But there was something he hadn’t understood.

I wasn’t the person standing outside my father’s house with a suitcase anymore.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone use my grandmother’s name to steal from other people.

By Sunday evening, our legal team had taken the first steps to protect the property.

We contacted the trust’s original attorney.

We obtained certified copies of the deed.

We sent formal notices disputing any unauthorized representation of ownership.

We also began documenting every instance in which my name, my hotel, or my grandmother’s property had been used in connection with Northbridge.

But I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

At 8:17 p.m., my mother called.

I almost didn’t answer.

Then I remembered how she had looked at me in the hotel the night before.

The same woman who had ignored seven years of my life.

The same woman who had smiled when my father threatened me.

I answered.

“Hello, Mom.”

Her voice was shaking.

“Chloe, please.”

“What happened?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART8…