Chapter 7: The Missing $120,000
The message on Brent's phone disappeared from the screen, but I could still see the words in my head.
*TELL HER WHERE THE $120,000 WENT BEFORE THE POLICE DO.*
I looked at Brent.
“Who sent this?””
“I don't know.””
“Then why are they threatening you?””
“They're not threatening me.””
I held up the phone.
“They just mentioned the police.””
Brent reached for it.
I pulled it away.
“Don't.””
Dad stepped toward us.
“Give me the phone.””
“No.””
“Cassidy, this isn't your business.””
I looked at him.
“One hundred and twenty thousand dollars was taken from an account in my name.””
His expression collapsed.
“You need to understand—”
“I understand enough.””
Mom came into the kitchen, wiping her eyes.
“What happened?””
I turned the phone toward her.
She read the messages.
Her hand went to her mouth.
“Oh God.””
I stared at her.
“You know who sent this.””
She shook her head.
“No.””
“You recognized the message.””
“I didn't.””
“Mom.””
She looked toward Dad.
He wouldn't look at either of us.
That was when I knew.
She knew.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
I placed the phone on the table.
“Where did the money go?””
Dad sat down.
Brent remained standing.
Mom slowly pulled out the chair beside him.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Dad said, “It was supposed to save us.””
“That's what you always say.””
“This time it was true.””
“How?””
“We had a foreclosure notice.””
“You said the refinance fixed that.””
“It did for a while.””
I stared at him.
“What did you spend one hundred and twenty thousand dollars on?””
Dad's fingers trembled.
“Not all of it was spent.””
“Where is the rest?””
“I don't know.””
My heart sank.
“You don't know.””
“There were transfers.””
“To whom?””
“I can't remember every one.””
“Then we'll look.””
I pulled the bank statement from my bag.
“Because the bank remembers.””
Dad looked at the document.
His eyes widened.
“You got the records already?””
“Some.””
I unfolded the statement on the kitchen table.
There were multiple transfers.
Thirty thousand.
Twenty-five.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Eight.
Seven.
Small withdrawals mixed with large ones.
Most went to companies I didn't recognize.
A few went directly to individual bank accounts.
I pointed at one.
“Who is this?””
Dad didn't answer.
“Dad.””
“An attorney.””
“For what?””
“Debt negotiations.””
“How much did the attorney get?””
“Twenty-five.””
I pointed at another.
“What's this?””
“A contractor.””
“What contractor?””
“The roof.””
I stared at him.
“We replaced the roof two years ago.””
“The old one failed again.””
“You never told me.””
“You weren't here.””
I almost laughed.
“I lived here.””
He lowered his head.
I kept reading.
Then I saw a payment for *$9,800*.
Recipient:
*Mercer Holdings LLC.*
I looked at Brent.
“You transferred my money to yourself again.””
He shook his head.
“It wasn't for me.””
“Your company received it.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“It was a reimbursement.””
“For what?””
“Business expenses.””
“Which business expenses?””
He couldn't answer.
I pointed at another line.
*$14,500 — B. Mercer Consulting.*
I looked up.
“What is this?””
Brent's face tightened.
“That was different.””
“It's your company.””
“No, that's a separate company.””
“How many companies do you have?””
He didn't answer.
“Brent.””
“Three.””
Mom began crying.
I stared at her.
“You knew.””
“I knew he had businesses.””
“Did you know he was moving my money through them?””
She shook her head.
“I didn't know the amounts.””
“Did Dad?””
Dad remained silent.
Brent suddenly slammed both hands onto the table.
“Enough!””
The sound made all of us jump.
“You think I wanted this?””
I stepped back.
“You took my money.””
“I was trying to fix everything!””
“You stole from me.””
“I borrowed it!””
“You used a power of attorney I never knew you had.””
“I had permission.””
“No.””
He froze.
“You had permission from a document that was supposed to protect my interests.””
Dad stood.
“Brent.””
“Don't.””
Brent turned on him.
“You told me to do it.””
Dad went still.
I looked between them.
“What?””
Brent was breathing hard.
“You told me to move the money.””
Dad's voice dropped.
“I told you to move what was necessary.””
“You said we had to stop the foreclosure.””
“You agreed.””
“You said Cassidy would sign eventually.””
My skin prickled.
I looked at Dad.
“You expected me to sign.””
“Yes.””
“After everything was already done.””
“We thought you'd understand.””
“You thought I'd sign because I didn't know what I'd signed before.””
Dad's silence was crushing.
I picked up the papers.
“Where did the rest of the $120,000 go?””
Brent looked at Dad.
Dad shook his head.
Brent hesitated.
“There's another account.””
My stomach dropped.
“Whose?””
“Dad's.””
“How much?””
“About forty-eight thousand.””
“Where?””
“Offshore.””
The kitchen became silent.
I stared at him.
“You're kidding.””
“No.””
“Which country?””
Brent looked at Dad.
“Switzerland.””
Mom whispered, “Richard…”
Dad closed his eyes.
“It was temporary.””
“You moved my money to an offshore account?””
“Not all of it was yours.””
“How much?””
Dad looked ashamed.
“Forty-eight thousand.””
I picked up my phone.
“I'm going to the bank.””
Brent grabbed my arm.
“Wait.””
I pulled free.
“Don't touch me.””
“You need to know something first.””
“What?””
“The person who sent the message.””
“Who?””
“I think it's the attorney.””
“Which attorney?””
“The one handling the refinance.””
“Why would he contact you?””
“Because he found something.””
“What?””
Brent looked at Dad.
Dad whispered, “Don't.””
Brent ignored him.
“The refinance application contains documents that shouldn't exist.””
I stared at him.
“What documents?””
“Your tax return.””
“I gave you my tax return for the house insurance.””
“No.””
He shook his head.
“This one was different.””
“How?””
“It was signed electronically.””
“I don't use electronic signatures for financial documents.””
“I know.””
“So who signed it?””
Brent looked at me.
“Dad.””
I turned toward him.
“How?””
“He used the power of attorney.””
“No.””
“There’s a problem.””
“What problem?””
“The power of attorney didn't authorize electronic signatures.””
My stomach tightened.
“So he forged it.””
Brent nodded.
“And the bank knows.””
I stared at my father.
“Did you forge my signature?””
He whispered, “I used the authorization.””
“You forged my signature.””
“I was trying to keep the house.””
“You forged my signature.””
His shoulders dropped.
“Yes.””
The word was almost inaudible.
Mom broke down.
I stepped away from all three of them.
For twenty years, I'd believed my father was the person who protected our family.
Now I was looking at someone who had forged my name, moved my inheritance, and tried to transfer property I partially owned.
I reached for my keys.
Dad stood.
“Where are you going?””
“Somewhere you can't reach me.””
“Cassidy, don't do this.””
“Do what?””
“Destroy your family.””
I stared at him.
“You did that.””
He flinched.
I walked toward the front door.
Then Mom called after me.
“Cassidy!””
I stopped.
She ran to the hallway and held out a small cardboard box.
“This belonged to your grandfather.””
I looked at it.
“What is it?””
“I found it when we were cleaning the attic.””
“Why are you giving it to me now?””
“Because you need to know.””
I took the box.
Inside was an old leather-bound notebook, a key, and a sealed envelope.
My name was written on the envelope.
In Grandpa's handwriting.
My breath caught.
“When did you find this?””
“A month ago.””
“Why didn't you give it to me?””
Mom started crying.
“Your father wouldn't let me.””
I looked at Dad.
He looked terrified.
I took the envelope and opened it.
Inside was a single handwritten page.
*Cassidy,*
*If you are reading this, something went wrong.*
*Your father will tell you I trusted him with everything. I did not.*
My hands began to shake.
I continued.
*The house is not what it appears to be. Neither is the inheritance.*
There was another paragraph.
*I created a trust for you. Your father was named temporary trustee only until your twenty-first birthday. After that, control was supposed to transfer to you automatically.*
I looked up.
Dad had turned white.
I read the final lines.
*If he still controls anything after your twenty-first birthday, ask the bank for the original trust agreement. Never sign away the house. The property was purchased in your name for a reason.*
I lowered the page.
“Dad.””
He didn't move.
“What trust?””
He stared at the floor.
“I thought it was dissolved.””
“Grandpa says it wasn't.””
“It was complicated.””
“Where is the original trust agreement?””
He said nothing.
I looked at Mom.
She whispered, “In the safe.””
My eyes moved toward the hallway.
“What safe?””
Mom pointed toward the wall behind the old dining-room painting.
I had walked past that painting thousands of times.
I had never known there was a safe behind it.
Dad stepped forward.
“Cassidy, don't open that.””
I turned toward him.
“Why?””
“Because everything you're looking for is in there.””
I walked to the painting.
Brent whispered, “Dad…”
I pulled it away from the wall.
A small metal safe was embedded behind it.
I looked at the key in my hand.
It fit perfectly.
My fingers closed around it.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed the attorney's name from the refinance documents.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A man's voice came through, tight and urgent.
“Ms. Mercer, lock the house and leave immediately.””
I looked at Dad.
“Why?””
“Because I just received a court filing.””
“What kind of filing?””
He took a breath.
“Your father is attempting to declare you legally incompetent.””
My entire body went cold.
“And if that succeeds,” he continued, “he can use the power of attorney to control the trust—and your property.””
I looked at Dad.
He was staring at the phone in my hand.
May you like
Then the attorney said the words that made me understand why they had suddenly wanted me out.
“Cassidy, your hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning.””
