Chapter 5 - The Account My Mother Couldn’t Explain
Rebecca Sloan answered her phone at 12:43 a.m.
I expected voicemail.
Instead, a sharp female voice said, “Sloan.”
I explained who I was.
There was a pause.
Then she said, “Where are you?”
I told her.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She arrived in seventeen.
Rebecca was in her forties, wearing a wool coat over what looked suspiciously like pajamas.
She carried a laptop.
No makeup.
No patience.
She sat down beside Nathan.
“Show me everything.”
We did.
For nearly two hours, she reviewed records.
When she finished, she leaned back.
“This is not a family disagreement.”
My chest tightened.
“What is it?”
“Potential fraud.”
Nathan looked at her.
Rebecca continued.
“If the transfers were obtained through intentional misrepresentation, and we can trace the funds into current assets, there may be grounds for emergency action.”
“Can we stop the sale?”
“Possibly.”
She looked at me.
“But I need sworn statements.”
“I’ll give one.”
She looked at Nathan.
“So will I.”
Then she asked the question I dreaded.
“What about Patricia?”
I didn’t answer.
Rebecca’s expression was blunt.
“Your mother is central.”
I looked down.
“Will she be charged?”
“Emily, I don’t know.”
That frightened me.
I didn’t want Mom protected from consequences.
But I also didn’t want her destroyed.
That contradiction felt unbearable.
Rebecca packed her laptop.
“We meet at my office at eight.”
Nathan nodded.
I drove back to my parents’ house around 3 a.m.
Only one lamp was on.
Dad sat in the living room.
Mom was gone.
I stopped.
“Where is she?”
Dad looked exhausted.
“She left.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did she take anything?”
Dad looked confused.
“Her purse.”
I immediately called Nathan.
No answer.
Then Rebecca.
She picked up.
“Patricia left the house.”
Rebecca swore under her breath.
“Freeze whatever accounts you control.”
I opened my banking app.
Too late.
A pending request sat there.
Someone had attempted to transfer $85,000 from an old linked account I had forgotten Mom still had limited authorization to access.
The bank had blocked it because the amount exceeded the transaction limit.
I stared at the screen.
My hands shook.
“She tried again.”
Dad stood.
“What?”
I showed him.
His face collapsed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
He whispered, “After everything tonight?”
I felt numb.
Then my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
She was crying.
“Emily, please listen.”
“Where are you?”
“With Michael.”
Dad heard.
His face hardened.
Mom continued.
“He says Nathan stole records.”
“Nathan gave me evidence.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, Mom. I understand perfectly.”
“Michael says if you interfere with the property sale, he’ll expose everything.”
“Everything is already exposed.”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“There are things your father doesn’t know.”
I looked at Dad.
He could hear every word.
“What things?”
Mom began sobbing.
“Emily, I made terrible mistakes.”
“I know.”
“No. Worse.”
Dad took the phone.
“Patricia.”
Silence.
Then Mom whispered, “Robert.”
“What else?”
She cried.
“I’m sorry.”
“What else?”
Finally she said it.
“Nathan might be yours.”
The room disappeared.
Dad sat down.
“What?”
Mom’s voice shook.
“I never knew.”
I stared at him.
Dad stared at me.
Mom continued.
“When Nathan was conceived, Michael and I had broken up temporarily.”
Dad whispered, “I didn’t know you then.”
“I know.”
He frowned.
“Then how could he be mine?”
Mom went silent.
Dad’s confusion deepened.
Then his face changed.
“No.”
Mom sobbed.
“Robert…”
“You knew me before we dated?”
She cried harder.
Dad stood.
“When?”
“We met briefly at a conference.”
He stared.
“That weekend?”
“Yes.”
My skin prickled.
Dad walked away from the phone.
I suddenly remembered an old story.
My parents always said they officially met at a friend’s wedding three years before I was born.
Apparently, that wasn’t true.
Mom had met him earlier.
One weekend.
One secret.
One possible child.
Dad sat down slowly.
“Did Michael know?”
Mom answered.
“Yes.”
Now everything made sense.
The leverage.
The secrecy.
The money.
Michael hadn’t simply threatened to reveal an affair.
He had threatened to reveal that Nathan might be my father’s biological son.
Dad whispered, “Forty-one years.”
Mom cried.
“I was terrified.”
“You let him blackmail you for fifteen years?”
“Yes.”
“With Emily’s money?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Dad closed his eyes.
I felt anger rising again.
“Why didn’t you use your own money?”
Mom snapped unexpectedly.
“I did!”
“How much?”
“Everything I had.”
That surprised me.
Mom continued.
“My inheritance. Savings. Jewelry. Everything.”
Dad stared at the floor.
“So when you ran out…”
“I asked Emily.”
I whispered, “You didn’t ask.”
Mom went silent.
“You lied.”
“I know.”
“No, you manipulated me.”
“I know.”
“And tonight, after we discovered everything, you tried to take another eighty-five thousand dollars.”
Mom began crying harder.
“Michael said he needed it to stop the sale.”
Rebecca’s words echoed in my mind.
Asset movement.
Fraud.
Pressure.
I spoke slowly.
“Mom, listen to me.”
She sniffled.
“Where exactly are you?”
She hesitated.
I softened my voice.
“I’m not asking so I can punish you.”
Dad looked at me.
“Where are you?”
Finally she whispered the address.
The coastal house.
The property in her name.
I texted it immediately to Rebecca.
Then I said, “Do not sign anything.”
Mom’s breathing changed.
“What?”
“Whatever Michael gives you, don’t sign it.”
Silence.
Then I heard a man in the background.
“Patricia.”
Mom whispered, “I have to go.”
“Mom.”
The line went dead.
Dad stood.
“We’re going there.”
I grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“She’s my wife.”
“And Michael is desperate.”
Dad stared.
“We call the police.”
“For what?”
I didn’t know.
Rebecca called back seconds later.
“I’m contacting local authorities and filing emergency paperwork.”
“Can they stop the sale?”
“Maybe.”
“What about Mom?”
Rebecca paused.
“Emily, there’s something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Nathan sent me another document.”
I looked at my phone.
“What document?”
“A life insurance policy.”
Dad frowned.
“Whose?”
Rebecca answered.
“Patricia’s.”
Silence.
I whispered, “What about it?”
“Two million dollars.”
My heart started racing.
“And three months ago, the beneficiary was changed.”
I already knew before she said it.
Not Dad.
Not me.
Not Nathan.
Rebecca said quietly:
“Michael Grant.”
Dad grabbed his coat.
This time I didn’t stop him.
Because suddenly, getting my money back no longer mattered.
May you like
Getting my mother home alive did.
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