Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN IN THE PARKING LOT
Emily watched the car from behind the curtain.
Black SUV.
Tinted windows.
No visible license plate from where she stood.
Daniel moved beside her.
“Don't go outside.”
“I wasn't going to.”
The SUV remained there for three minutes.
Then it drove away.
Emily sat down.
“I don't understand.”
Daniel crouched beside her.
“Your family has been hiding something.”
“That part I understand.”
“And your father was connected to it.”
“Yes.”
“And now somebody knows you're investigating.”
Emily looked at him.
“What if Mom isn't the person in control?”
Daniel paused.
“That's possible.”
Emily thought about yesterday.
Her mother had been cruel.
But fear had flashed across her face when Emily asked about the photograph.
Diane wasn't simply angry.
She was terrified.
The next morning, Emily returned to the attorney's office.
He had obtained additional records.
The trust existed.
It had never been closed.
And the balance was far larger than Emily expected.
But the records showed withdrawals.
Millions of dollars.
Emily stared at the page.
“Who authorized these?”
The attorney pointed to the signature.
“Your mother.”
Emily felt numb.
“How could she withdraw money from my trust?”
“She was the administrator.”
“But I was an adult.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't the bank stop her?”
The attorney looked uncomfortable.
“Because someone submitted documentation indicating you were unable to manage the trust.”
Emily's face went blank.
“Unable?”
“Yes.”
“I was twenty-two.”
“I understand.”
“What documentation?”
The attorney slid a file across the desk.
Emily opened it.
A medical evaluation.
A psychological report.
A statement claiming Emily was financially unstable and incapable of managing large assets.
She stared at the signature at the bottom.
Her mother's.
Emily whispered,
“She declared me incompetent.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“Did she?”
The attorney nodded.
“According to this.”
Emily looked at the date.
The report had been filed one week after Emily's wedding.
She remembered that week.
She had been happy.
She had just started her career.
She had never been more independent.
Then the attorney revealed something worse.
“The report wasn't prepared by a doctor who knew you.”
“Who signed it?”
The attorney looked at her.
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
Emily turned the page.
The doctor's name was familiar.
Not because she knew him.
Because she had seen the name before.
On another document.
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A payment.
From Whitmore Holdings.
