Chapter 3 - Follow the Money
The next morning, Lucy was admitted to oncology.
I was sitting beside her bed when my phone rang.
“Mr. Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Marcus Reed. We spoke briefly two days ago regarding your settlement.”
The attorney.
I stood and walked into the hallway.
“Yes.”
“I received your voicemail. You said this was urgent.”
“It is.”
I looked through the glass at Lucy.
“I need another kind of lawyer.”
“What happened?”
“About a hundred thousand dollars disappeared while my wife was being denied cancer treatment.”
There was a pause.
Then his voice changed.
“Start from the beginning.”
For twenty minutes, I told him everything.
The transfers.
The email forwarding.
The phone.
The shed.
The food.
The necklace.
The two medical appointments.
My mother's statement that because the money entered her account, she could decide how to use it.
When I finished, Marcus said, “Do you have records?”
“Every transfer.”
“Messages?”
“Years.”
“Any proof your mother understood the purpose of the money?”
I opened our old chat.
There were dozens.
Use this for Lucy and the house.
Make sure Lucy has everything she needs.
This bonus is for medical expenses if anything comes up.
Please put some aside for emergencies.
I read several aloud.
Marcus exhaled.
“Don't delete anything.”
“I won't.”
“And don't threaten them.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
“I was planning to let them think I'm giving them money.”
Another pause.
Marcus almost laughed.
“Explain.”
I told him.
The settlement was real.
One million, one hundred eighty thousand dollars before legal fees and deductions.
But it had not been deposited yet.
Final paperwork was still moving through the system.
Theresa and Brianna believed it would arrive within days.
“I want them talking,” I said.
Marcus was careful.
“Don't create crimes.”
“I don't need to.”
I watched Theresa's newest message appear.
I was thinking the smart thing would be putting the settlement into the family account first. Then we can divide responsibilities.
I read it to him.
Marcus said, “No. I don't think you'll need to create anything.”
By noon, he had connected me with a forensic accountant named Rachel Kim.
She asked me for bank statements, wire receipts, credit card transfers, and dates.
I sent everything I had.
Then came the difficult part.
Getting Theresa's records.
The account belonged to her.
I couldn't simply demand access.
But greed solved that problem too.
I called her.
She answered on the first ring.
“Nathan.”
Her voice was warm.
“How is Lucy?”
“Stable.”
“Thank God.”
I looked at the IV pump beside my wife.
Theresa had invoked God more times in twelve hours than she had during the previous four years.
“I need your help.”
“Anything.”
“I've been speaking to someone about the settlement.”
She became quiet.
“A financial adviser?”
“Something like that.”
I lied carefully.
“He says before I distribute any money, I should understand family expenses from the last four years.”
“Of course.”
“He says if I can prove I've been supporting the household, there may be planning advantages.”
That was vague enough to mean almost nothing.
Theresa heard exactly what she wanted to hear.
“How much documentation?”
“Everything.”
“Bank statements?”
“Yes.”
“Receipts?”
“If possible.”
A pause.
Then she asked the question I had expected.
“Will this affect how much you can give us?”
“Probably.”
That was true.
“Oh.”
“In a good way if the numbers support it.”
Another lie.
A beautiful one.
“I'll get everything.”
“Thank you.”
“Nathan?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you understand we made sacrifices too.”
I looked at Lucy.
“What kind?”
“Taking care of a sick person is expensive.”
I almost stopped breathing.
“That's why I need the records.”
Theresa rushed to agree.
“Yes. Exactly.”
She had no idea she had just promised to hand me the evidence herself.
Three hours later, Brianna arrived at the hospital carrying flowers.
Expensive flowers.
She wore designer sunglasses on top of her head and held two coffee cups.
“I brought you one.”
I stared at her.
“You remembered how I take it?”
“Two sugars.”
“No sugar.”
Her smile faltered.
“Canada changed you.”
“No. You just never knew.”
She set the coffee down.
“Can I see Lucy?”
“No.”
Brianna blinked.
“Why?”
“She doesn't want visitors.”
“I'm family.”
“To me.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Brianna's face hardened.
Then she remembered the million dollars.
The anger disappeared.
“Nathan, I know you're upset.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She lowered her voice.
“Mom handled things badly.”
“Badly?”
“She was stressed.”
“Lucy slept in a shed.”
“I didn't agree with everything.”
I leaned against the wall.
“But you helped.”
“I lived there.”
“You ate there.”
“What?”
“You ate food in that house while Lucy said she hadn't eaten since the day before.”
Brianna crossed her arms.
“She was dramatic about food.”
“She weighs ninety-one pounds.”
Brianna looked away.
For the first time, shame seemed possible.
Then her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
I saw an appointment notification.
LUXE AUTO — PREMIUM DETAILING
The SUV.
Shame lasted approximately three seconds.
“I don't want us tearing the family apart,” she said.
“Then why did you help tear my wife apart?”
She looked at the hospital door.
“You're only hearing one side.”
“Then give me yours.”
Brianna opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
I let the silence stretch.
She finally said, “Lucy started accusing Mom of stealing.”
“Was she?”
“No!”
Brianna's answer was too fast.
I nodded.
“Good.”
“What?”
“Then the bank records will prove it.”
Her face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“What bank records?”
“Mom is sending them.”
Brianna stared at me.
“When?”
“Today.”
She immediately reached for her phone.
I smiled.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
She shoved the phone back into her purse.
“Nothing.”
She left ten minutes later.
The moment the elevator doors closed, I texted Rachel.
My sister just found out Mom is sending records. Expect movement.
Rachel replied.
Save every message.
At 4:17 p.m., Theresa emailed me thirteen PDF files.
Four years of statements.
I forwarded them without opening them.
Rachel called two hours later.
“Nathan.”
Something in her voice made me sit down.
“What did you find?”
“How much money did you transfer in total?”
“Ninety-eight thousand, give or take.”
“Ninety-eight thousand four hundred and sixty-two.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Your mother spent six hundred and eighty dollars on documented medical costs related to Lucy.”
I thought I'd misheard.
“How much?”
“Six hundred eighty.”
“That's impossible.”
“It isn't.”
Rachel continued.
“Twenty-two thousand toward vehicle purchases and payments. Approximately seventeen thousand connected to a business that appears to be your sister's salon. Roughly nineteen thousand in renovations. More than eleven thousand in restaurants, clothing, electronics, beauty services, and travel.”
My eyes closed.
“And the rest?”
“Cash withdrawals. Transfers. Credit card payments. I'm tracing them.”
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
Ninety-eight thousand dollars.
Lucy had been denied food.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Several incoming payments to your mother's account appear to have been followed by transfers into an account ending in 4421.”
“Whose?”
“We're working on that.”
I leaned back.
Rachel paused.
“Also, the statements your mother sent appear altered.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“Some pages are missing transaction lines.”
“Can you prove it?”
“The running balances don't match.”
I almost laughed.
They had tried to clean the evidence before sending it.
And in doing so, they had created more evidence.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Theresa.
Did the records help?
I stared at it.
Then replied.
Very much.
She sent a smiling face.
That night, Lucy woke around midnight.
She looked at me sitting beside her.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
She gave the smallest smile.
“Are they angry?”
“Who?”
“Your family.”
I looked at her.
“You're my family.”
She started crying again.
I leaned closer.
“Listen to me.”
She wiped her face.
“I can't undo four years.”
“Nathan—”
“I can't undo eleven months.”
My voice cracked.
“But I can decide what happens next.”
She studied me.
“What happens next?”
I thought about the statements.
The missing lines.
The hidden transfers.
The settlement.
My mother's sudden sweetness.
“They tell me the truth.”
“And if they don't?”
May you like
I looked toward the dark hospital window.
“Then I let their money tell it for them.”
