Chapter 2: The Money They Stole Before My Daughter Was Born
For six years, I had believed the Walkers were wealthy because Adrian's family owned several successful businesses.
I knew they had properties in three states, a luxury apartment in Manhattan, and a vacation home in Florida.
What I didn't know was that my mother-in-law had been using my identity to move money.
And apparently, she had been doing it for much longer than my pregnancy.
"Daddy, how can she open an account in my name?""
Arthur Mitchell sat beside my bed, scrolling through the documents his attorney had sent.
"Someone gave her your personal information.""
"Adrian?""
"We're not assuming anything yet.""
"But who else would have it?""
My father looked at me.
"Your husband had access to your financial paperwork. So did his mother when she helped arrange your health insurance.""
I felt sick.
I remembered Diane sitting at our kitchen table two years earlier, sorting through paperwork.
She had insisted she could get me a better insurance rate through one of the Walker family companies.
She had asked for my Social Security number, my date of birth, and copies of my identification.
I'd handed everything over.
Because she was family.
Because Adrian had told me she was trustworthy.
Because I was stupid enough to believe that people who called themselves family wouldn't steal from me.
"How much?"" I whispered.
My father turned the phone toward me again.
"Two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.""
I shook my head.
"Why would she need that much money?""
"That's what we're going to find out.""
A nurse entered to check my blood pressure.
She glanced at the screen.
"Mrs. Walker, you need to relax. Your readings are still elevated.""
I put the phone down.
"I'm trying.""
She adjusted the cuff.
"Your daughter is doing well. The doctor wants to keep monitoring both of you overnight.""
I nodded.
The heartbeat continued.
I stared at the ceiling.
My father quietly stepped into the hallway to make a call.
I could hear his voice through the partially closed door.
"Get me every document associated with the Mitchell family trust. No, not just the recent transfers. Everything. I want the original beneficiary records.""
The words made me turn.
The Mitchell family trust.
I knew my father had investments and property.
I knew he'd worked hard for decades.
But he had never discussed his finances in detail.
He had always told me that money wasn't the measure of a person's worth.
When I married Adrian, Dad offered to pay for our house.
I refused.
I wanted to build a life with my husband without relying on my father's money.
Dad respected that decision.
He never interfered.
Until now.
He returned twenty minutes later.
"There's something I need to tell you.""
I pushed myself higher against the pillows.
"Is it about the account?""
"Partly.""
He sat down.
"Do you remember the inheritance your grandmother left you?""
I frowned.
"Grandma Eleanor?""
He nodded.
"She established a trust for you when you were a child. It was designed to become available to you when you turned thirty.""
I blinked.
"I thought she left me her jewelry.""
"She did. But there was also an investment trust.""
I stared at him.
"How much?""
He hesitated.
"Approximately three million dollars, depending on the current valuation.""
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Three million dollars.
I had spent the last six years working at a dental office, saving money for maternity leave, and arguing with Adrian about whether we could afford a second bedroom for the baby.
I had bought discounted baby clothes.
I had delayed replacing my old car.
And all that time, I had apparently been entitled to a trust worth millions.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Your grandmother's instructions were clear. She wanted you to make your own decisions. The trust was scheduled to transfer when you turned thirty, but it required independent verification and financial management.""
I swallowed.
"Who managed it?""
"An investment firm.""
"Did Adrian know?""
My father looked at me.
"That's what I'm investigating.""
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
"Did Diane?""
He didn't answer immediately.
That was enough.
I stared at him.
"Daddy.""
He took my hand.
"One of the recent transfers from the trust went into an account controlled by a company connected to Diane Walker.""
I pulled my hand away.
"No.""
"I'm sorry.""
"How much?""
"About $410,000.""
I began shaking.
"She stole from Grandma's trust?""
"We're still tracing the transactions.""
"That's my money.""
"Yes.""
I looked toward the window.
The city lights were beginning to appear outside.
For six years, Diane had called me irresponsible.
She had criticized my clothes, my job, my cooking, and the way I decorated our apartment.
She had told me I wasn't good enough for her son.
And all that time, she had been taking money that my grandmother had set aside for me.
My father spoke quietly.
"Serena, I need you to understand that we don't know the full extent of this yet.""
I looked at him.
"What else is there?""
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
Adrian.
I stared at his name.
Then I declined the call.
A message arrived immediately.
We need to talk without your father interfering.
Another message followed.
Mother made a mistake. You know how she gets.
Then:
Don't destroy our family over this.
I read it twice.
Our family.
I looked down at my stomach.
Our daughter was due in approximately five weeks.
I wondered whether Adrian had ever considered what it would mean to be a father.
Or whether he had only considered how useful a child would be to his family.
My phone rang again.
This time, it was an unfamiliar number.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice came through.
"Mrs. Walker? My name is Rachel Bennett. I'm an attorney representing the Walker family.""
My father immediately looked up.
I put the phone on speaker.
"How can I help you?""
"Your husband has asked me to arrange a private meeting. He wants to resolve the current dispute before it escalates.""
I almost laughed.
"Your client allowed his mother to assault me.""
"Mrs. Walker, I understand you're upset.""
"That's an interesting way to describe being slapped while pregnant.""
There was a pause.
"Adrian is prepared to make certain financial concessions.""
My father leaned closer.
"What concessions?""
The attorney hesitated.
"Mr. Walker is willing to provide a separate residence and monthly financial support, provided Mrs. Walker agrees to withdraw her complaint and sign a temporary custody arrangement.""
I felt my blood run cold.
"Custody arrangement?""
"Only temporary. It would ensure the child has a stable residence with the Walker family while you recover from childbirth.""
I looked at my father.
He slowly shook his head.
I returned my attention to the phone.
"You want me to sign away my daughter?""
"That's not how I would characterize it.""
"Then characterize it properly.""
Silence.
Finally, the attorney said, "I think it's best if we discuss this in person.""
My father took the phone.
"This is Arthur Mitchell. Any further communication concerning my daughter must go through her independent attorney.""
"Mr. Mitchell, I don't believe—"
"Then I suggest you review the documents your client has already submitted.""
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
"She was trying to make me sign.""
"Yes.""
"While I'm in the hospital.""
"Yes.""
I covered my face.
My father stood.
"I'm going to make a few calls.""
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't leave me.""
His expression softened immediately.
"I'm not going anywhere.""
He sat down again.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I remembered something.
"Daddy, there were forms Adrian brought home last month. He said they were insurance documents.""
"What kind of forms?""
"I don't know. He told me to sign them because the insurance company needed updated information before the baby arrived.""
"Did you sign them?""
I thought carefully.
"I signed one.""
My father went very still.
"What did it say?""
"I don't remember. It was a thick packet. He had already marked the places where I needed to sign.""
He closed his eyes.
"Serena.""
"I know.""
"Did you keep a copy?""
"No. He said the company would email it.""
My father immediately called his attorney.
While he spoke, I searched my email.
There were dozens of messages from the Walker family business.
Insurance updates.
Account notifications.
A document confirmation.
I opened the oldest message.
The subject line read:
Family Financial Protection Agreement — Completed.
I tapped the attachment.
A document loaded.
The first page looked ordinary.
The second page contained insurance details.
The third page had my signature.
Then I reached page seven.
My breath caught.
It was a beneficiary authorization.
The document stated that, in the event of my death or medical incapacity, certain financial assets associated with my personal trust would be transferred into a family-controlled management account.
I read it again.
My name was listed as the grantor.
Diane Walker was listed as the authorized representative.
And Adrian was the secondary beneficiary.
I felt as if someone had poured ice water down my back.
"Daddy.""
He stopped speaking.
I turned the phone toward him.
He read the page.
Then he looked at the final section.
His face became unreadable.
"Who witnessed this?""
I pointed to the bottom.
A name appeared beside the witness signature.
Margaret Collins.
I recognized it immediately.
Margaret was Diane's longtime personal assistant.
She had attended our wedding.
She had even helped me choose my wedding dress.
But the date on the document was impossible.
It said I had signed it on a Tuesday.
I remembered that Tuesday.
I had been at work all day.
I had a time-stamped dental appointment afterward.
And the document claimed I had signed it in front of a notary in another state.
"Daddy, I wasn't even there.""
He carefully took my phone.
"Then we have a problem.""
My father called his attorney again.
This time, he didn't bother lowering his voice.
"Freeze every pending transaction connected to the Mitchell trust. Immediately.""
I heard him repeat my name.
Then he said something that made my heart pound.
"Yes. I want the notary investigated, too.""
He ended the call.
I looked at him.
"Can they really do that?""
"We can challenge the authorization. The important thing is that you've now identified a document you say you never signed.""
He paused.
"And we need to find out why Adrian was so desperate to get control of your trust before your daughter was born.""
A nurse entered carrying another folder.
"Mrs. Walker? There's a visitor downstairs asking to see you.""
I frowned.
"Who?""
The nurse checked the visitor request.
"Margaret Collins.""
My father stood immediately.
"Absolutely not.""
But the nurse looked uncomfortable.
"She says she has something urgent to tell Mrs. Walker. She also says she brought a copy of the original document.""
I looked at my father.
"Let her come.""
He hesitated.
"Serena, we don't know what she wants.""
"She knows something.""
He studied my face.
Then he nodded to the nurse.
"She can come in. But the officers stay.""
Five minutes later, the door opened.
Margaret Collins walked inside.
She was holding a brown envelope.
Her eyes were red.
And before she even reached my bed, she began crying.
"Mrs. Walker, I'm so sorry.""
I stared at her.
"For what?""
She placed the envelope on the bedside table.
Then she looked directly at me.
"Because the signature wasn't the only thing they forged.""
May you like
She swallowed.
"They also changed the date of your grandmother's will.""
