Chapter 5 - The School Email I Never Sent
The next morning, I flew to Chicago for real.
At least that was what Beatriz believed.
In reality, I checked into a hotel fifteen minutes from home under my assistant's name.
The cyber team worked from a conference room downstairs.
My attorney, Leah Kim, joined us.
So did Marcus Bell, an independent trust examiner who had never worked with my family office.
By noon, the number had changed.
Not one hundred eighty-four thousand.
Six hundred twelve thousand dollars.
Taken from Isabella's trust in eleven months.
The invoices were almost elegant.
Private occupational therapy.
Academic support.
Nutrition consultation.
Equine therapy.
Home behavior assessment.
Specialized childcare planning.
None of it had happened.
I knew because I started calling every provider.
Two addresses were mailboxes.
One company had dissolved three years ago.
Another belonged to a bookkeeping service in Delaware.
Grayhaven's listed office was a rented suite with no staff.
"Who approved these?" I asked.
Marcus turned his laptop around.
My name appeared beside every transaction.
Electronic authorization.
Time stamps.
Security tokens.
"Those are mine."
"Looks like it."
"I didn't approve them."
Marcus nodded.
"Then someone replicated your authentication."
Leah looked at me.
"Who had access to your devices?"
I already knew the answer.
"Beatriz."
Then Marcus added, "And Owen Price."
I stared at him.
"Owen has been my controller for fourteen years."
"That doesn't make him innocent."
"He was at my wedding."
Leah gave me a tired look.
"Fraud loves familiarity."
I hated her for being right.
At 2:15, Dana from Isabella's school called again.
"There's something else."
"Tell me."
"I pulled the visitor log."
"Okay."
"Beatriz came to school twice after I tried to contact you."
"Why?"
"She said you asked her to handle it."
I gripped the phone.
"Did she meet with you?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Dana hesitated.
"That Isabella had started lying after your engagement."
"We were already married."
"I know that now."
She sounded embarrassed.
"She said the wedding made Isabella afraid of losing her inheritance."
I closed my eyes.
"An eight-year-old?"
"That's what I thought."
"Why didn't you call child services?"
"Because two days later I got the email from you saying Isabella was under professional care."
The forged email.
Everything was designed to close doors before I even knew they had opened.
That afternoon I drove to school through a back entrance.
Dana handed me copies of Isabella's drawings from counseling sessions.
Most looked normal.
House.
Trees.
A girl.
Then I saw one page drawn entirely in black and red.
A rectangle labeled HOME.
Small circles appeared in every room.
Above them Isabella had written:
EYES.
In the bottom corner was a tiny blue square.
No eyes.
"What's that?" I asked.
Dana shook her head.
"I asked. She wouldn't tell me."
Blue square.
I thought about the property plan.
The basement had an old wine room with a blue steel door.
It had been locked since before Beatriz moved in.
At least, I thought it had.
I drove home after midnight.
The house was dark.
I entered through the garage.
The blue door in the basement was not locked.
It opened with one push.
Inside was no wine.
There was a desk.
A router.
Two monitors.
And a wall covered with printed photographs of me and Isabella.
In the center was a folder labeled:
May you like
EMERGENCY PETITION - FINAL DRAFT.
