Chapter 1 - THE ACCOUNT THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
I was still staring at my attorney's message when Detective Morales noticed the change in my face.
“Something wrong?”
I turned the phone toward him.
Claire, don’t contact Ryan.
I’ve found something else.
Something involving your money.
Morales read the message twice before handing the phone back.
“Who is your attorney?”
“Rebecca Sloan.”
“Call her.”
It was 12:14 a.m. on New Year’s Day.
Rebecca answered on the second ring.
She did not say hello.
“Claire, are you alone?”
“A detective is here.”
“Good.”
Her voice sounded different from the woman who had handled my contracts and stock agreements for six years.
Rebecca was normally composed to the point of being irritating.
Tonight, she sounded angry.
“I pulled the financial records you sent me last month when we were reviewing your estate planning.”
My hand moved instinctively over the monitor strapped around my stomach.
“And?”
“There’s a line of credit secured against your investment account.”
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“It exists.”
“How much?”
Rebecca hesitated.
That hesitation frightened me more than the answer.
“Eight hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
My throat went dry.
“I never borrowed eight hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
“I know.”
“Who did?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
Detective Morales leaned forward.
“Ask whether the account shows where the money went.”
I repeated the question.
Rebecca was quiet for several seconds.
“Three transfers went to a company called Crestmont Strategic Holdings.”
I had never heard the name.
“Who owns it?”
“I’m still tracing that.”
My hospital room door suddenly opened.
A nurse stepped inside.
“Mrs. Lawson?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a man at the front desk asking to see you.”
My entire body tightened.
“Who?”
She checked the tablet in her hand.
“Ryan Lawson.”
Detective Morales stood immediately.
“He doesn’t come into this room.”
The nurse nodded and left.
My phone buzzed before the door closed.
RYAN.
I declined the call.
He called again.
Then again.
Then a message appeared.
Please don’t do this.
We can fix tonight.
Another message followed.
Dad went too far.
I know that.
But police will destroy everything.
I stared at the screen.
He had not asked whether our baby was safe.
He had not asked whether I was hurt.
He was worried about everything being destroyed.
Rebecca spoke through the phone.
“Claire?”
“I’m here.”
“There’s something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course there is.”
“Crestmont made a $275,000 payment six months ago.”
“To whom?”
“To Ryan’s father.”
I opened my eyes.
Grant.
The man who had pressed a cigarette into my pregnant stomach had apparently been receiving money from a company funded through a loan secured against my assets.
Morales saw my expression.
“What?”
I told him.
His jaw tightened.
Rebecca continued.
“I’m filing emergency notices with the bank as soon as they open.”
“Can you freeze everything?”
“Anything solely in your name, yes.”
“What about Ryan?”
“Claire, I need you to understand something.”
Her voice softened.
“Ryan may already know you discovered this.”
I looked toward the closed hospital door.
Outside it, somewhere down the hallway, my husband was trying to reach me.
For the first time, I understood that Ryan had not followed me to the elevator because he regretted what his father had done.
He had followed me because he was terrified of what I might discover once I stopped protecting him.
“Freeze it all,” I said.
Rebecca exhaled.
“Claire, that could collapse their finances almost immediately.”
I looked down at the angry red mark on my stomach.
“Good.”
Twenty minutes later, a security officer arrived carrying a sealed evidence envelope.
Inside was a flash drive.
The building had preserved footage from three cameras inside the penthouse.
Morales took possession of it.
My phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID was not Ryan.
It was my bank’s private-client emergency number.
I answered.
“Mrs. Lawson, we’ve detected an attempt to initiate a transfer from your primary brokerage account.”
My blood went cold.
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
“Where?”
The banker paused.
“To Crestmont Strategic Holdings.”
The request had been submitted eleven minutes earlier.
Ryan was not standing outside my hospital room to apologize.
He was trying to steal the rest before I could stop him.
“Block it,” I said.
“Mrs. Lawson, the authorization appears to contain your electronic signature.”
I stared at the wall.
“That signature is fraudulent.”
May you like
And somewhere beyond my hospital door, Ryan stopped calling.
Because he finally knew I had caught him.
