Chapter 3 - The Money Trail
By midnight, I had stopped thinking like a son.
I started thinking like a CEO.
I called Daniel Mercer.
He answered on the second ring.
"Sebastian? Is everything all right?"
"No."
Silence.
"My wife is in the hospital."
"What happened?"
"My mother."
Another silence.
Then Daniel said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
His voice changed.
"What do you mean?"
"I found unauthorized transfers."
He inhaled sharply.
"What transfers?"
"You tell me."
"I don't understand."
"You authorized several payments."
"I haven't authorized anything."
"Your digital signature appears on them."
Daniel went silent.
I knew him too well.
He was calculating.
"Sebastian," he finally said, "where are you?"
"Hospital."
"Don't sign anything."
My eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because if those documents are real, someone has been setting both of us up."
I looked through the glass toward Clara.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Find out."
"I already am."
The call ended.
I returned to Clara's room.
She was sleeping.
I sat beside her until morning.
At seven, my private investigator, Marcus Reed, arrived.
Marcus had worked for Vance Global for eleven years.
I trusted him because he rarely spoke unless he had facts.
"I need everything," I told him.
"My mother."
"The household staff."
"The financial accounts."
"Security footage."
"Phone records."
"And Daniel."
Marcus nodded.
"Anything else?"
I looked at Clara.
"Find out who entered my home while I was traveling."
Marcus's expression hardened.
"I'll handle it."
At nine, he called.
"We have a problem."
"What?"
"The home security system was disabled eleven times over the last two months."
"By whom?"
"Your mother's guest code."
I closed my eyes.
"Who else had access?"
"One other person."
"Who?"
"Daniel Mercer."
That didn't make sense.
Daniel lived across town.
Why would he need access to my house?
Then Marcus added:
"There's more."
He sent me photographs.
The first showed Eleanor entering my study.
The second showed her carrying a black folder.
The third showed Daniel meeting her outside a private club.
The fourth showed something worse.
My mother's hand was holding a document bearing my signature.
A signature I had never written.
I called Marcus.
"Forgery?"
"Looks like it."
"What is the document?"
"Power of attorney."
My blood went cold.
"What does it give her?"
"Temporary authority over several family assets."
"When?"
"Three months ago."
Three months.
That was when Clara had first become pregnant.
I suddenly remembered Eleanor's strange insistence that I focus on the company.
She had told me Clara needed a woman around the house.
She had volunteered to move in.
She had even encouraged me to travel more.
I had thought she was helping.
She had been isolating my wife.
Then I noticed something else.
The date on the power of attorney.
It was two days after Clara's previous medical emergency.
A time when Clara had been heavily medicated.
I called the hospital.
The medical records confirmed that Eleanor had accompanied Clara that day.
My hands went numb.
Then Marcus called again.
"We found the black folder."
"Where?"
"In your mother's bedroom."
"What's inside?"
"Everything."
The folder contained bank statements, copies of medical records, photographs of Clara, and dozens of notes.
Some were handwritten.
One read:
Sebastian still trusts her. Need to break that.
Another:
Keep Clara dependent.
Another:
The baby changes everything.
I stared at the last sentence.
"Marcus."
"Yes?"
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
I kept reading.
Then I found a page titled:
VANCE SUCCESSION PLAN
My mother's handwriting filled the page.
If Sebastian became incapacitated, Eleanor would assume control.
If Sebastian divorced Clara, Eleanor would gain influence over the family trust.
If Clara's health deteriorated...
I stopped reading.
My vision blurred.
This wasn't humiliation.
It wasn't cruelty.
It was a plan.
A calculated plan.
My mother wanted control of my family.
And perhaps my company.
But why?
Marcus entered the room.
"We found another name."
"Who?"
He handed me a photograph.
A man stood beside Eleanor.
I recognized him.
Arthur Vance.
My father's younger brother.
A man I hadn't seen in eighteen years.
He had left the family after a bitter dispute over inheritance.
I stared at the photograph.
"He's been dead."
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
He placed another photograph on the table.
Arthur was alive.
And standing beside him was my mother.
I felt the pieces move into place.
My mother wasn't acting alone.
And the people who had hurt Clara had been preparing something much bigger.
Then my phone rang.
It was the hospital.
"Mr. Vance?"
"Yes?"
"You need to come immediately."
My heart stopped.
May you like
"What's wrong?"
"Your wife is in labor."
