Chapter 17 - MALCOLM PRYCE
Malcolm disappeared two days later.
His attorney claimed he was traveling.
Investigators disagreed.
His passport had been used to enter Canada.
Accounts linked to him began moving money.
That was a mistake.
Financial investigators love movement.
Movement creates trails.
Within days, several accounts were frozen.
Then Malcolm returned voluntarily after his attorney negotiated terms.
He talked.
A lot.
According to his statement, Brenda was the architect.
Malcolm created companies.
Howard signed some documents.
Brenda directed the money.
In exchange, Malcolm received percentages.
He also revealed something no one expected.
Brenda had been preparing to leave Howard.
The Miami condo was not merely an investment.
It was her planned residence.
The Wyoming property was held through a trust benefiting her alone.
She intended to sell several assets, refinance the company using my trust, and then separate from Howard after the business stabilized.
She would have walked away wealthy.
Howard would have remained responsible for much of the operational debt.
Derek would have inherited a damaged company.
And I would have been financially tied to him.
I read the summary twice.
Then a third time.
“She was going to destroy her own son too.”
I said.
Rachel nodded.
“Control is usually more important to people like Brenda than loyalty.”
Derek learned the same day.
He called me.
I almost didn't answer.
Then I did.
“Did you know?”
he asked.
“No.”
“She was going to leave Dad.”
“Yes.”
“She was going to leave me with the company.”
“It appears so.”
He laughed.
It was an empty sound.
“All that garbage about family.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“She taught me my whole life that outsiders couldn't be trusted.”
“She told me family protected family.”
“And she was stealing from all of us.”
“Yes.”
A long silence passed.
Then he said something unexpected.
“I understand why you didn't forgive me.”
I leaned against the wall.
“Why now?”
“Because I kept thinking Mom manipulated me.”
“She did.”
“But Malcolm's statement made something obvious.”
“What?”
“I still chose what I did.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
“You said no.”
“And I punished you.”
“Yes.”
“Even if Mom disappeared tomorrow, that would still be mine.”
I felt something loosen in my chest.
Not love.
Not reconciliation.
Closure.
“That's true.”
“I am sorry, Chloe.”
“I know.”
This time, I meant it.
I believed he was sorry.
But apologies are not bridges back to places that should remain burned.
We ended the call quietly.
No screaming.
No accusations.
May you like
No promises.
Just two people finally standing on opposite sides of the truth.
