Chapter 7
The next morning, investigators identified the reserve account.
It belonged to a company registered under the name of Diane's former business partner, a man named Calvin Brooks.
He had managed several luxury events for the family over the years. Diane often described him as a trusted adviser, someone who could make complicated business arrangements work smoothly.
Now his company appeared in the middle of the questionable transfers.
My father refused to speculate about Calvin's role.
“We need records, not assumptions,” he reminded everyone.
The investigators requested contracts, invoices, and bank documentation. The foundation's board suspended all payments to the company until the review was complete.
Then Diane made her next move.
She arranged a family meeting at her house and invited relatives who had attended the gala. Through them, she sent me a message claiming that she wanted to apologize.
I almost laughed when I read it.
My attorney advised me not to attend unless there was a clear purpose.
But I wanted to hear what Diane would say when she couldn't hide behind a ballroom full of guests.
I agreed to meet her in the presence of my father and attorney.
Marcus asked to come as well.
I told him he could attend, but I made one condition.
“If she insults me, you don't ask me to forgive her. If she lies, you don't ask me to protect her.”
He answered quietly.
“I won't.”
When we arrived, Diane was sitting in her living room wearing a simple cream blouse. Her usual jewelry was missing, and her expression looked carefully arranged.
She stood when I entered.
“Nia, darling.”
I remained beside my father.
“Please don't call me that.”
Her smile faltered.
“I know things have gone terribly wrong.”
“You hit me.”
“I was upset.”
“You accused me of things I hadn't done.”
“I was under pressure.”
“You used my name on financial documents.”
Her eyes flashed.
“That is precisely the kind of accusation I was hoping we could discuss privately.”
My attorney opened her notebook.
“We can discuss the records with the investigators.”
Diane looked at Marcus.
“Your wife is determined to destroy this family.”
Marcus stared at her.
“No, Mom. She's determined not to be blamed for what you did.”
Diane's expression hardened.
“You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you.”
“I know what I owe you,” he replied. “But I don't owe you my silence.”
She turned toward me.
“You think you're better than me because your father owns a hotel?”
I shook my head.
“I never thought that. You were the one who decided money made people worthy of respect.”
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she reached for a folder on the coffee table.
“Fine. Since everyone wants evidence, here it is.”
She slid the folder toward my father.
Inside were printed messages allegedly showing that I had discussed the foundation's accounts with her months earlier.
One message contained my name and a statement approving a payment.
My stomach tightened.
“I never sent this.”
Diane lifted her chin.
“Then perhaps you should explain why your name is attached to it.”
My attorney examined the pages.
“These are printouts, not original records. We will need the source files and verification of the sender information.”
Diane's smile returned.
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
My father closed the folder.
“Why did you invite us here, Diane?”
She hesitated.
“To settle this before the entire family is humiliated.”
Marcus shook his head.
“You wanted Nia to sign a statement saying she approved the transfers.”
Diane looked away.
I finally understood the purpose of the meeting.
She hadn't invited us to apologize.
She had hoped to make me sign something that would protect her.
My attorney gathered the documents.
“We will provide these to the investigators. Please do not contact Nia directly about the financial review.”
Diane's composure cracked.
“You can't just walk out!”
I turned toward the door.
“Watch me.”
Marcus followed us outside.
When we reached the car, he stopped several feet away.
“I should have stood up to her years ago.”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He didn't try to defend himself.
“I can't undo that. But I can make sure the investigators know the truth, even if it costs me everything.”
I studied his face.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that being a good son didn't mean obeying every demand his mother made.
It meant being willing to tell her no.
As we drove away, my attorney received a message from the digital forensics team.
The messages Diane had shown us had been created from an account that imitated mine.
The investigators had also discovered that the original source files had been altered.
May you like
Someone had tried to manufacture evidence against me.
And the account used to create the false messages had been accessed from Calvin Brooks's office.
