Chapter 2
I slept for forty-three minutes.
At five in the morning, Martin called.
“I’ve got enough for emergency action.”
I sat at my kitchen table while the rest of the house remained dark.
“What did you find?”
“More than I expected.”
That was not reassuring.
Martin had contacted a forensic accountant he trusted.
The transfers to RLS Consulting were only part of it.
Victoria had opened two credit cards using my information.
One carried a balance of $34,000.
The other had paid for dinners, hotels, clothing, and something called the Coronado Executive Suite.
I knew that hotel.
It was twenty minutes from our house.
I pulled transaction dates.
Many matched evenings Victoria claimed she was helping Sabrina with wedding planning.
My stomach turned.
“Raymond?” I asked.
Martin sighed.
“Probably.”
I didn’t ask what he meant.
I already knew.
Then came worse news.
Someone had accessed my business payroll system.
Three fake employees had been added.
For eleven months, my tailoring company had been paying salaries to people who did not exist.
The direct deposits went to accounts controlled by RLS Consulting.
“How much?”
“Almost ninety thousand.”
I closed my eyes.
The theft now exceeded two hundred thousand dollars.
And that still wasn’t everything.
Martin continued.
“The attempted pavilion loan is serious.”
“They forged my signature.”
“Yes.”
“But the bank didn’t verify ownership?”
“They were going to.”
“So Monday’s closing would fail.”
“Eventually.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“The application includes a forged trust authorization.”
My blood chilled.
Someone had created a fake document stating Victoria was co-trustee.
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s fraudulent, Glenn. Not impossible.”
“Who notarized it?”
There was a pause.
“A man named Curtis Bell.”
I knew Curtis.
He worked for Logan’s father.
The groom’s family.
The wedding was no longer only a betrayal inside my home.
The deception might extend directly into the family Sabrina was marrying into.
“Does Logan know?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked upstairs.
Sabrina had slept here last night.
My daughter was getting married in less than twelve hours.
“Don’t accuse anyone yet,” Martin warned.
“I won’t.”
“I’m filing emergency notices against the trust properties.”
“Good.”
“I also contacted the bank’s fraud department.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What happens now?”
“They’re locking the pending loan.”
“And Victoria?”
“She won’t know until she tries to do something.”
That mattered.
I wanted the truth before the confrontation.
At seven, Sabrina came downstairs wearing pajamas.
She found me making coffee.
For one stupid second, my heart reacted like it always had.
My daughter.
Then I remembered the company name.
RLS.
Raymond Lewis Sabrina.
She opened the refrigerator.
“You’re not planning to make a scene today, right?”
I stirred my coffee.
“No.”
She looked relieved.
“Thank you.”
“Big day.”
Her face softened.
“Yes.”
“You nervous?”
“A little.”
There it was again.
The child I loved.
Maybe that was why betrayal from family hurt differently.
Love didn’t disappear when people became cruel.
It simply became painful.
She noticed the bandage on my thumb.
“You cut yourself?”
“Last night.”
Her eyes moved briefly toward the workshop.
The ruined suit.
She knew.
But she said nothing.
Then she surprised me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Raymond says after the wedding he wants us to spend more time together.”
Us.
I almost laughed.
“Does he?”
“He says he regrets missing my childhood.”
I studied her.
“Do you believe him?”
Her face hardened.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Just asking.”
She crossed her arms.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make him sound suspicious.”
I said nothing.
Sabrina continued.
“He made mistakes.”
“Twenty-five years of mistakes.”
“He was young.”
“So was I when I met you.”
She flinched.
I immediately regretted the sharpness.
Not because it was false.
Because I wanted answers, not another fight.
She grabbed orange juice.
“Mom says you’ll never understand because you want me to owe you.”
I stared at her.
“Is that what you think?”
She hesitated.
“I think you remind everyone what you paid for.”
I felt as though she had struck me.
“I paid because I was your father.”
“You chose to.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t use it against me.”
I put down my cup.
“Sabrina, did I ever tell you that you owed me for school?”
“No.”
“College?”
“No.”
“Your first car?”
“No.”
“Your wedding?”
“No.”
“Then why are you saying this?”
Her eyes flickered.
Because someone had been feeding her those words.
Victoria.
Raymond.
Maybe both.
She looked away.
“I have to get ready.”
Before she reached the stairs, I spoke.
“Do you know what RLS Consulting is?”
She stopped.
Completely.
I watched her shoulders tighten.
Then she turned.
“What?”
“RLS Consulting.”
Her face lost color.
I had my answer.
“No.”
The lie came too late.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
She stared at me.
“Why are you asking?”
“No reason.”
“Dad.”
I picked up my coffee.
“You have a wedding.”
She stood there another second.
Then hurried upstairs.
Within three minutes, I heard her bedroom door close.
Within five, Victoria’s phone rang upstairs.
Good.
Now they knew something might be wrong.
But they didn’t know how much I knew.
At eight thirty, I drove to Martin’s office.
He had prepared a folder.
Copies of deeds.
Bank fraud reports.
Company records.
The forged loan documents.
A temporary protective order preventing transfer or encumbrance of trust property.
And one more document.
“What’s this?”
“Your will.”
I stared at him.
“You asked me years ago to prepare changes if circumstances required.”
My existing estate plan left almost everything to Victoria, then Sabrina.
Martin placed a pen beside the papers.
“You can change that.”
I thought of Sabrina laughing about the smell of machine oil in her car.
My chest hurt.
“Not everything.”
Martin waited.
I read the revisions.
Victoria was removed completely.
Sabrina’s inheritance would be placed into a restricted trust.
No direct access.
No control over my businesses.
No rights to property.
A portion would instead fund scholarships for students from working-class families pursuing trades.
Tailoring.
Carpentry.
Electrical work.
Plumbing.
People with calluses.
People Victoria thought were embarrassing.
I signed.
Martin looked at me.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“What about the wedding?”
I slid another document across the table.
A vendor agreement for Bayfront Pavilion.
The wedding booking had been made under my company account.
I controlled the facility.
“What are you thinking?” Martin asked.
“I’m not canceling her wedding.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Generous.”
“No.”
I stood.
“I’m simply changing who pays for the extras.”
The standard event package was already paid.
Everything beyond that had been charged to me personally.
Premium liquor.
Imported flowers.
Luxury cars.
Fireworks.
Late-night catering.
I called every vendor.
“Anything contracted and paid stays.”
Anything unpaid?
Removed.
By ten thirty, Victoria began calling.
I didn’t answer.
At eleven, Sabrina called.
I didn’t answer.
At eleven fifteen, Raymond called from an unknown number.
I let it ring.
Then Logan called.
I answered.
“Glenn?”
His voice sounded tense.
“Yes.”
“Can we talk?”
“About what?”
There was silence.
Then he said something I did not expect.
“About Sabrina.”
I looked at Martin.
“What about her?”
Logan lowered his voice.
“She just told me you’re trying to sabotage the wedding because you’re jealous of Raymond.”
I said nothing.
“And she says you stole money from her.”
My grip tightened.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
Interesting.
They had reversed the story.
Logan continued.
“My dad says we may need police here.”
“Police would be useful.”
He went quiet.
I asked, “Logan, did you know about an $850,000 loan against Bayfront Pavilion?”
Nothing.
Then:
“What loan?”
For the first time that morning, I believed someone might truly be innocent.
“Where are you?”
“At the pavilion.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He exhaled.
“Should Sabrina know?”
“No.”
“Why?”
May you like
I closed the legal folder.
“Because before you marry my daughter, you need to know exactly who you’re marrying.”
