Chapter 6
The loan was for nine hundred thousand dollars.
I stared at the statement.
Then looked toward Grandpa.
He was sitting beside me in Naomi's office.
His hands rested on the dark-green notebook.
For the first time, he looked truly old.
Not because of his silver hair.
Not because of his hearing aid.
Because betrayal had exhausted him.
Naomi pointed toward the document.
"The loan was issued against a commercial building owned by Arthur's company."
Grandpa closed his eyes.
"Which building?"
She looked at the page.
"The Eastwood Plaza property."
His face changed.
I knew why.
Eastwood Plaza was the first building Grandpa and Grandma bought together.
They'd saved for years.
Worked weekends.
Skipped vacations.
Grandma once told me they nearly lost the property during a recession.
But they fought to keep it.
Now someone had used it as collateral for a loan Grandpa said he never authorized.
I felt sick.
"Where did the money go?"
Naomi took a breath.
"The preliminary records suggest most of it moved through Bennett Family Investments."
My stomach tightened.
Dad's company.
Again.
Grandpa stared at the page.
Then whispered, "Marcus."
His voice broke.
I reached for his hand.
He squeezed mine.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Naomi continued.
"We've notified the lender that the authorization is disputed and requested all supporting records."
I nodded.
"Can they take Eastwood Plaza?"
She answered carefully.
"The lender has paused certain actions while the dispute is reviewed. We're pursuing the appropriate legal remedies."
I exhaled shakily.
Grandpa looked toward the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, "Evelyn loved that building."
My eyes filled.
He continued.
"She used to sweep the hallways herself."
I smiled sadly.
"I remember."
Grandpa nodded.
"She'd bring coffee for the tenants."
His voice cracked.
"She knew every family by name."
I leaned against him.
He wiped his eyes.
Then straightened.
"All right."
Naomi looked at him.
"Arthur?"
He took a breath.
"Let's find out exactly what happened."
Over the following weeks, the investigation expanded.
Independent accountants reviewed the company's records.
The bank provided transaction histories.
A document examiner compared signatures.
And Naomi coordinated with the appropriate authorities when the evidence suggested possible fraud.
I helped Grandpa organize his paperwork.
Every evening, we sat at the dining table.
Not the Christmas table anymore.
The same table.
But without the insults.
Without the lies.
Just Grandpa, me, and stacks of documents.
He taught me how to read financial statements.
I learned what collateral meant.
How property loans worked.
Why business accounts needed independent oversight.
Sometimes I felt overwhelmed.
Grandpa always noticed.
"Need a break, sunshine?"
I smiled.
"Maybe."
He'd close the folder.
Then make tea.
We'd sit by the fireplace and talk about Grandma.
Those quiet moments became my favorite part of the day.
Not because the investigation was easy.
Because we were finally building trust through honesty.
One evening, I asked Grandpa something I'd been afraid to say.
"Do you still love Dad?"
He looked at me.
"Of course."
I swallowed.
"Even after all this?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
Then he took a breath.
"But love doesn't excuse dishonesty."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"I can love my son and still demand accountability."
My eyes filled.
That was something Mom had never understood.
In our family, love was often treated like obedience.
If you disagreed, you were ungrateful.
If you asked questions, you were disloyal.
If you set boundaries, you were selfish.
Grandpa was teaching me something different.
Love could be honest.
Even when honesty hurt.
Then Naomi called with an update.
The signature examination had identified significant differences between Grandpa's genuine signatures and those on several disputed documents.
The account access records also showed unusual activity associated with Dad's business office.
Grandpa listened carefully.
Then asked, "What about Diane?"
Naomi paused.
"Her involvement is still being reviewed."
I felt cold.
Mom had been quiet since Christmas.
She sent messages.
Asked whether Grandpa was okay.
Said she wanted the family back together.
But she never answered my questions about the money.
I wondered whether she was frightened.
Or guilty.
Or both.
A few days later, Mom appeared at Grandpa's house.
She was wearing her green sweater.
The same one she'd worn at Christmas.
Her eyes were swollen.
"Arthur."
Grandpa stood in the doorway.
"Diane."
She looked toward me.
"Maya."
I nodded.
"Mom."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then she whispered, "I need to tell you something."
Grandpa stepped aside.
We sat in the living room.
Mom held her handbag tightly.
Her fingers were trembling.
Finally, she took a breath.
"Marcus has been lying to me."
I stared.
"About what?"
She looked down.
"The investments."
Grandpa remained quiet.
Mom continued.
"He told me everything was temporary."
My stomach tightened.
"What was temporary?"
"The transfers."
I closed my eyes.
She knew.
At least some of it.
I looked at her.
"Mom, why didn't you tell us?"
She began crying.
"Because he said if the money didn't move, the business would collapse."
Grandpa's face hardened.
"And you believed him?"
She nodded.
"I wanted to."
I felt anger rising.
"Even when it was Grandma's money?"
Mom covered her mouth.
I continued.
"Even when I had student loans?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I didn't know about all the trust withdrawals."
I stared.
"But you knew about some?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
Grandpa closed his eyes.
For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then Mom whispered something unexpected.
"Marcus has another bank account."
My stomach tightened.
"What account?"
She looked toward Grandpa.
"An account in another state."
Grandpa sat straighter.
"How do you know?"
Mom opened her handbag.
She removed a small envelope.
Inside were printed statements.
She placed them on the table.
My heart started pounding.
Several large transfers appeared.
All connected to Dad's business.
Then I noticed a name beside one transaction.
A woman's name.
VANESSA REED.
I frowned.
"Who is Vanessa Reed?"
Mom's face crumpled.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, "The woman your father has been seeing."
I stopped breathing.
Dad hadn't only been hiding money.
May you like
He'd been hiding another relationship.
And now Mom was finally beginning to understand how much he'd betrayed her too.
