Chapter 5 - The Blue FolderOver the next week, Naomi and Daniel helped me construct a complete record.
Every discovery was placed in a blue folder.
The folder grew thicker each day.
There were forged signatures on loan applications.
Altered authorization documents.
Emails in which my father instructed employees to refer to me as the company’s silent financial partner.
Bank statements showing that money intended for wedding vendors had been transferred into the condominium account.
Invoices created by a consulting company Sabrina had registered six months earlier.
Payments from Hale Development Group to Sabrina’s company for services that appeared never to have been performed.
The largest transfer was $180,000.
The description read: PROPERTY DEVELOPMENT CONSULTATION.
The money became the down payment for Unit 1704.
Daniel also obtained photographs and video of my father and Sabrina entering the Belmont Hotel together on three separate occasions.
The footage had been captured from public areas and through exterior glass.
Nothing showed what happened inside a private room.
Nothing needed to.
Their relationship was obvious.
However, the most important evidence came from someone I had not expected.
My father’s former accountant, Harold Finch, called me.
“I heard there are questions about the company accounts,” he said.
“How did you get my number?”
“You gave it to me at a Christmas party several years ago. You said to call if your father ever needed help.”
“What happened?”
Harold sighed.
“Your father fired me eight months ago because I refused to approve a loan application.”
“In my name?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He showed me a document claiming you had authorized him.”
“The document was altered.”
“I suspected that, but he threatened to sue me for violating confidentiality.”
“Do you still have records?”
“I kept copies of the emails to protect myself.”
Harold sent them to Naomi.
In one message, my father wrote:
Victoria will never question the paperwork. She always does what the family needs.
I read that sentence repeatedly.
It hurt more than the affair.
My father did not forge my signature because he believed he had no choice.
He did it because he believed I would never resist.
Madison continued sending angry messages.
The florist had reduced the order.
The reception hall wanted a new payment method.
The custom fireworks display had been canceled.
Each message was written as though I had personally destroyed something precious.
I eventually replied:
Ask Dad to show you where the wedding money went.
She did not respond.
Two days later, Ethan called me.
He was Madison’s fiancé, a quiet high school teacher whose family had offered to host a small wedding at their church.
My father had rejected the idea because it was not impressive enough.
“Madison says you’re trying to get your father arrested,” Ethan said.
“I reported financial fraud.”
“Did he really open accounts in your name?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“More than six hundred thousand dollars so far.”
He exhaled slowly.
“Madison told me you volunteered to pay for the wedding.”
“I agreed to contribute twenty thousand. I have paid more than a hundred thousand.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I don’t think she knew everything either.”
“Can the wedding still happen?”
“Yes. But it may not be the wedding my father promised.”
“I don’t care about the expensive parts.”
“Tell Madison.”
“I have.”
There was sadness in his voice.
“She says canceling anything would humiliate her.”
My father had taught Madison the same lesson he taught me.
Other people’s opinions mattered more than financial safety.
May you like
The difference was that I had been trained to pay the price.
Madison had been trained to expect someone else to pay it.
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