Chapter 8 - BEVERLY’S MISSING MILLIONS
Evelyn Cross had worked for Beverly.
Not casually.
Not socially.
She had been Beverly’s private accountant.
According to official records, Evelyn died in a boating accident fifteen years earlier.
No body was recovered.
A court declared her dead seven years later.
Claire remembered her because Evelyn handled several of the charitable accounts my mother had questioned.
Now I had a photograph of her with Edwin.
Taken six months after our wedding.
“Could it be someone who looks like her?” I asked.
Claire shook her head.
“That scar above her eyebrow.”
I zoomed in.
A faint white line crossed the woman’s left brow.
“Evelyn had it since college.”
Samuel contacted a private investigator.
By midnight, we had another photograph.
Evelyn Cross entering an apartment building in Montreal three years ago.
She was alive.
And someone had spent years making sure Beverly believed she was dead.
Or making everyone else believe it.
The missing millions began making sense.
If Evelyn helped create Beverly’s hidden accounts, she might know where the money went.
The next morning, Richard Cole returned with his own attorney.
He looked exhausted.
“I want immunity.”
“That is not ours to grant,” Samuel said.
“I want cooperation documented.”
“That we can do.”
Richard opened his laptop.
He showed us a spreadsheet.
Twenty-six million dollars.
That was the total amount transferred through Beverly’s network over fourteen years.
Some was returned to company accounts.
Some financed political donations and charitable projects.
Nearly eleven million vanished completely.
“Where?”
Richard shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then he showed us one recurring recipient.
EC CONSULTING.
Evelyn Cross.
“She wasn’t dead,” I said.
“No.”
“Did Beverly know?”
“I don’t think so.”
That surprised everyone.
Richard explained.
For years, someone had been siphoning money from Beverly’s own secret accounts.
“Evelyn?”
“Probably.”
“So Beverly was stealing from Halston, and Evelyn was stealing from Beverly.”
Richard grimaced.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
It would have been funny if my marriage had not been tangled inside it.
Then Samuel found something else.
One transfer to Edwin.
Two million dollars.
But the money did not come from Beverly directly.
It came from EC Consulting.
Evelyn paid him.
“Why?”
Richard did not know.
I called Edwin.
He answered instantly.
“Laura.”
“Who is Evelyn Cross?”
Silence.
Then:
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Who is she?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I am so tired of hearing that sentence.”
“Laura.”
“Did Evelyn pay you two million dollars?”
He breathed out.
“Yes.”
For once, the answer came quickly.
“Why?”
“Not for marrying you.”
I froze.
“What?”
“That’s what my mother wanted me to think.”
“What are you saying?”
“Evelyn paid me to marry you.”
The room went silent.
Samuel moved closer.
“Put him on speaker.”
I did.
Edwin continued.
“My mother told me the money was hers. It wasn’t.”
“What did Evelyn want?”
“I didn’t know who Evelyn was then.”
“You accepted two million dollars from someone you didn’t know?”
“It came through a trust.”
“For what?”
“To marry you.”
My stomach twisted.
“So the essential part is still true.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted it.
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“Because someone needed you inside the Halston family.”
I stared at Samuel.
“What does that mean?”
Edwin’s voice lowered.
“There’s something in the company charter that only activates if a Bennett and a Halston become legally related.”
Samuel’s face changed.
“What clause?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I knew there was something. I didn’t know the details.”
“And you married me anyway.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No romance.
Just yes.
I almost respected the honesty.
Almost.
“Did you ever love me?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
That answer hurt more.
Because maybe some part of him believed it.
I ended the call.
Samuel was already searching records.
Two hours later he found it.
A clause signed eighteen years ago.
If a direct Bennett heir legally joined the Halston family, certain convertible shares automatically became eligible for consolidation after five years.
Five years.
Our fifth anniversary was six months away.
If I had stayed married another six months and signed the wrong document, control of the 41 percent trust could have shifted.
Evelyn had paid Edwin to create the exact family relationship needed.
But why would Evelyn want that?
The answer came that evening.
A video call request appeared from an encrypted address.
Samuel traced nothing.
I answered.
A woman appeared.
Older than the photograph.
Gray in her hair.
The same scar.
Evelyn Cross.
“Laura.”
“You paid my husband to marry me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
Samuel stood so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
Evelyn continued.
“Your father paid Edwin through me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To expose Beverly.”
I felt physically sick.
“No.”
“Laura—”
“No.”
My father had protected me.
Loved me.
Warned me.
He could not have arranged my marriage.
Evelyn looked pained.
“He did not expect Edwin to say yes.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“It was a test.”
“A two-million-dollar test?”
“Michael believed Edwin would tell you.”
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
“And then my father let me marry him?”
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
“That is the part Michael regretted for the rest of his life.”
The room became silent.
Then she said the sentence that changed how I remembered my father forever.
“Your wedding was supposed to expose Edwin.”
May you like
She paused.
“Instead, Michael lost control of the trap he built.”
