Chapter 3 - The Lies Between Every Call
Alexander asked everyone except me and Bianca to leave. Ewald refused until Alexander took the white envelope from his hands and counted every note. Lydia called him ungrateful. Mara guided them toward the door.
When it closed, Bianca produced three authorization forms from a desk drawer. Alexander’s signature appeared at the bottom of each.
He studied them. “These are electronic copies.”
“You signed during the Rotterdam project.”
“I was in Rotterdam when two of these were dated, but I never saw them.”
I watched his engineering mind awaken. Bianca had depended on emotion; details were dangerous to her.
The bank confirmed by telephone that the transfers had been authorized from Alexander’s home computer at times when he was abroad. The signatures would require formal examination, but the timestamps were enough to freeze further payments.
Bianca paced. “My father’s company was failing. I was going to replace it.”
“With what?” Alexander asked.
She had no answer.
I showed him emails Bianca had accidentally forwarded to me while arranging an estimate for repairs at my apartment. Her father’s address remained lower in the chain. The messages discussed his creditors and described Alexander’s savings as “the family reserve.”
“How long have you known?” my son asked.
“Three weeks.”
“And you let me give you the money?”
“I let you choose freely. Then I watched who believed she had the right to overrule you.”
His shoulders folded.
Bianca suddenly began to cry. She spoke of loyalty, stress, and the humiliation of seeing her father lose everything. Some of it was probably true. Truth and manipulation often share a coat.
“You could have asked me,” Alexander said.
“You would have said no.”
“Then you knew it was not yours.”
That sentence ended something between them.
He asked for her phone. She refused. He did not seize it. He called the bank, changed his credentials, and scheduled an appointment with a family solicitor.
Then his own phone chimed. A cloud restoration had completed. Hundreds of deleted messages reappeared.
There were texts from me he had never seen. Birthday wishes. Invitations. A message sent when I had fallen on an icy stair. There were replies Bianca had written in his name: Stop making everything about you. We need distance.
He read them in silence.
“I thought you stopped loving me,” I said.
He covered his mouth.
“And I thought you were punishing me.”
Bianca stepped toward him. “Alexander, please—”
He moved away.
Among the restored files was an audio message from Ewald. Bianca must have listened and deleted it, but the backup had preserved it.
Alexander pressed play.
“The old woman’s apartment is the next asset,” Ewald said. “Get Alexander to persuade her to sign before she becomes suspicious.”
May you like
My son looked at me. “Sign what?”
I reached for the third envelope—the one I had hoped never to open.
