Chapter 2
The name on the account was Patricia Whitmore.
My younger sister.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Claire watched me carefully.
“Evelyn?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Patricia was fifty-three years old.
She was my only surviving sibling.
We had grown up sharing a bedroom, passing clothes back and forth, and promising that nothing would ever come between us.
After our mother died, Patricia had become the person I called whenever life felt unbearable.
And now her name was printed on a bank account that had received money connected to my husband.
“That has to be a mistake,” I whispered.
Claire leaned forward.
“I verified the account holder's name through the records available to us.”
“Maybe someone used her identity.”
“That's possible. We need to investigate before drawing conclusions.”
I wanted to believe that explanation.
Desperately.
Because if Patricia had been involved, I hadn't simply lost my husband.
I had lost the person who knew every part of my life.
I pulled the statement closer.
There were five transfers.
The largest was eighty thousand dollars.
I stared at the dates.
One transfer had occurred on my birthday.
Another on the anniversary of our mother's death.
I remembered those days clearly.
On my birthday, Marcus had taken me to an expensive restaurant.
He had held my hand across the table and promised that the coming year would be our best.
On the anniversary of Mother's death, Patricia had called me crying.
She said she missed our childhood home.
I had cried with her.
And while I was comforting her, money had apparently moved into an account bearing her name.
My stomach turned.
“Why would Patricia do this?”
Claire shook her head.
“We don't know that she did.”
I sat back.
“She's been struggling financially.”
Claire said nothing.
“She lost her job two years ago. Her divorce was expensive. I've helped her with rent.”
“How much have you given her?”
I thought about it.
“Maybe thirty thousand over the past year.”
Claire's expression tightened.
“Was Marcus aware?”
“Of course. He sometimes delivered the money when I was busy.”
The words sounded different now.
Every ordinary memory had become suspicious.
Claire reached across the desk.
“Evelyn, I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don't accuse Patricia until we have evidence that she knowingly received or controlled these funds.”
I nodded.
But my hands were shaking.
My phone vibrated.
Marcus.
Then again.
And again.
I rejected each call.
A message appeared.
“Please come home. Vanessa means nothing. I love you.”
I stared at the screen.
Eleven years.
Three words.
And suddenly they meant absolutely nothing.
Another message followed.
“I know you're upset, but don't let Claire poison you against me.”
I showed Claire.
She frowned.
“How does he know you're here?”
I thought for a moment.
“I told him I was meeting you last week.”
“Still, that message is interesting.”
I saved it.
Then I called my attorney, Daniel Price.
Daniel had handled several business transactions for me.
He knew my company, Whitmore Properties, and understood that my personal assets and business holdings were carefully separated.
At least, I had believed they were.
When he answered, I explained what Claire had discovered.
He listened without interrupting.
Then he asked a question that made my stomach tighten.
“Evelyn, did you ever grant Marcus authority to act on your behalf?”
I hesitated.
“Only temporarily.”
“When?”
“Last spring. After my knee surgery.”
“Do you remember signing a power of attorney?”
I closed my eyes.
Marcus had brought several papers to my bedside.
He said they would allow him to manage household payments while I recovered.
I had been taking pain medication.
I remembered signing.
But not reading every page.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Daniel went quiet.
“Do you still have a copy?”
“I don't know.”
“I need to review it immediately.”
My heart raced.
“Could he have used it to move money?”
“That depends on the document's scope, the accounts involved, and whether the authority was still valid. We need to verify everything.”
I felt foolish.
A woman who had built a successful property company from nothing had allowed her husband to place financial documents in front of her without asking enough questions.
Not because I lacked intelligence.
Because I trusted him.
And trust had blinded me.
Daniel arranged an emergency meeting the following morning.
He also advised me to preserve all records, contact the financial institutions, and avoid signing anything else.
After the call, Claire brought me water.
I drank it slowly.
Then I looked at the folder again.
“There's something I haven't told you.”
Claire waited.
“Patricia warned me about Marcus before our wedding.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“What did she say?”
“She thought he was interested in my money.”
“And what happened?”
“We had a terrible argument. I accused her of jealousy.”
Claire looked thoughtful.
“Did they become close afterward?”
I nodded.
“Too close, maybe. Marcus kept saying he wanted to prove he was part of the family.”
I remembered Sunday dinners.
Family vacations.
Patricia laughing at Marcus's jokes.
The way she sometimes defended him when I complained that he spent too much.
I pressed my hand against my chest.
“What if they planned this together?”
“That's one possibility,” Claire said carefully. “But we're not going to build a case on fear. We're going to follow the evidence.”
I looked toward the window.
The sun was beginning to set.
My husband was probably waiting at our house.
My sister might already know what had happened.
And somewhere inside those accounts was a truth I was terrified to discover.
I asked Claire to call Patricia.
She put the phone on speaker.
Patricia answered on the third ring.
“Claire? Is Evelyn okay?”
Her concern sounded genuine.
Claire kept her voice calm.
“She's here with me. We found some financial records that need clarification.”
A pause.
“What records?”
“An account bearing your name received substantial transfers.”
Silence.
Then Patricia whispered, “Oh, God.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Patricia?”
She began crying.
“Evelyn, I can explain.”
My entire body went cold.
“You knew?”
“Please don't hate me.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell me the truth.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“I didn't know how to stop it.”
Claire and I exchanged a glance.
“Stop what?” I asked.
Patricia began sobbing harder.
“Marcus told me if I said anything, he'd make sure you lost the house.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“Evelyn, there's something you don't know about Vanessa.”
I held my breath.
Patricia lowered her voice.
“She isn't just his girlfriend.”
May you like
Then she said the words that made my skin turn cold.
“She was there the day you signed those papers.”
