Chapter 4 - My Brother’s $187,000 Secret
The next morning, Eric called seventeen times.
I answered the eighteenth.
"What?"
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Having breakfast."
"You froze the condo."
Technically, Rebecca had obtained a temporary order preventing further transfer while the dispute was reviewed.
But Eric didn't sound interested in legal vocabulary.
"Yes."
"Martin is threatening to sue."
"Sounds stressful."
"You think this is funny?"
"No."
I took another sip of coffee.
"I think it's expensive."
He swore.
Then:
"How much do you want?"
That was the first time my brother accidentally told the truth.
Not "How do we fix this?"
Not "I'm sorry."
How much.
"You think I'm negotiating?"
"You always wanted money."
I nearly laughed.
"I wanted my home."
"We can pay you."
"With whose money?"
Silence.
"Eric?"
Nothing.
"With whose money?"
He hung up.
Two hours later, Rebecca called.
"We found another account."
"What account?"
"The sale proceeds."
The condo had generated approximately $390,000 after the mortgage and transaction expenses.
Of that, $187,000 had gone to one recipient.
Not Eric personally.
Not a creditor.
A company called Redline Ventures.
"What is Redline?"
"We're working on it."
By lunch, we knew.
Sports betting.
Not technically the bookmaker itself.
A financing operation connected to private gambling debts.
Eric hadn't needed money to save a business.
He'd needed money because he owed people.
A lot of people.
That afternoon, Mom appeared at Rebecca's office.
Unannounced.
I almost didn't see her.
Rebecca asked what I wanted.
"Let her in."
Mom looked ten years older.
She carried a folder.
"I brought the power of attorney."
Rebecca took it.
Compared it.
Same document.
Same restriction.
Written approval required.
Mom stared at the floor.
"I thought it allowed me."
"No," Rebecca said.
Mom's voice trembled.
"Eric said it did."
I looked at her.
"You let Eric interpret my legal documents?"
"He had an attorney."
"Who?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom."
"He said his people checked."
"His people?"
She started crying.
This time, I felt something.
Not surrender.
Grief.
Because for the first time I wasn't looking at a villain.
I was looking at a woman who had spent thirty years confusing rescue with love.
"Why?"
"He was scared."
"So was I."
"I know."
"No. You don't."
I leaned forward.
"I opened my front door yesterday and my life was gone."
She wiped her face.
"I thought you could rebuild."
There it was again.
I could rebuild.
"You keep punishing me for being capable."
Her eyes lifted.
"I never—"
"Yes, you do."
My voice remained quiet.
"Every time Eric fails, you take something from the person who didn't."
She started to respond.
I stopped her.
"You sold my home because you believed I would survive it."
She whispered:
"You would."
"That's not permission."
Silence.
Rebecca let it sit.
Then Mom pushed the folder toward me.
"There's something else."
Inside were bank statements.
Eric's debts.
$187,000.
Then another loan.
$64,000.
Then another.
$91,500.
I looked at Mom.
"How long?"
"Three years."
"How much have you given him?"
She couldn't answer.
"How much?"
"Almost four hundred thousand."
I stared.
"Where did you get four hundred thousand dollars?"
Her face changed.
And I knew.
"Mom."
She looked away.
"Where?"
She whispered:
"Your father."
The room became completely still.
"What about Dad?"
"When he left, there were assets."
"Whose assets?"
"Family assets."
Rebecca leaned forward.
"What assets?"
Mom shook her head.
"I shouldn't have come."
She stood.
I stood too.
"Sit down."
"Natalie—"
"Where is Dad?"
"I don't know."
"You've said that for fifteen years."
"I don't."
"Then why did he leave a letter under my table?"
Her face went white.
Completely white.
"You found that?"
There are moments when one expression answers questions you haven't asked yet.
This was one.
"You knew it was there."
"No."
"You knew."
Mom backed toward the door.
Rebecca spoke calmly.
"Diane, I strongly recommend you stop talking until you have independent counsel."
Mom looked at her.
Then at me.
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"From Dad?"
Her eyes filled.
"No."
"Then from what?"
She whispered:
"From finding out what Eric did."
My stomach tightened.
"What did Eric do?"
She shook her head.
"I can't."
Then she left.
That evening, I returned to my hotel.
There was someone sitting outside my room.
A young woman.
Blonde.
Maybe twenty-eight.
She stood when she saw me.
"Are you Natalie?"
"Who are you?"
She looked terrified.
"My name is Kayla."
I knew that name.
Eric's girlfriend.
Or ex-girlfriend.
I wasn't sure.
She held a flash drive.
"Eric doesn't know I'm here."
I didn't move.
"What is that?"
"Everything."
"Everything about what?"
She swallowed.
"Your condo."
Then she added:
"And your father."
I stared at the drive.
Kayla's next sentence changed the story again.
"Your father didn't abandon you, Natalie."
She looked over her shoulder.
May you like
"Eric made sure you thought he did."
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