Chapter 4 - The Account Nobody Knew About
Rachel advised us not to confront Patricia yet.
That was difficult.
Very difficult.
But for the first time, I understood that anger could be useful only if it was controlled.
So I became quiet.
Not the old quiet.
The kind that surrendered.
A different kind.
The kind that listened.
Daniel moved back into the house.
We slept in separate rooms.
He wanted to explain everything.
I wanted documents.
Not promises.
Not apologies.
Evidence.
Rachel requested financial records.
Three days later, we found the first major discrepancy.
The company had been losing money for years.
But Patricia had reported steady profits.
How?
Fake contracts.
Inflated invoices.
Transfers between related companies.
Money moved from one account to another until the books looked healthy.
Then Rachel found a private account.
It was registered under a company I had never heard of.
The account balance was $4.7 million.
The beneficiary was Patricia.
But there was another name attached.
Daniel.
"Did you know about this?" I asked him.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Rachel looked at him.
"Your signature appears on the account authorization."
Daniel stared at the document.
"I didn't sign this."
I looked at him.
Now he understood what I had felt.
The horror of seeing your own name on something you never authorized.
"Someone forged it," he whispered.
"Yes."
Rachel continued.
"There's more."
She opened another file.
"Patricia borrowed against the family properties."
"How much?"
"About six million."
"Where did it go?"
"Personal accounts."
My anger was becoming something colder.
"What was she planning?"
Rachel shook her head.
"We don't know."
Then Daniel remembered something.
"Mom has a storage unit."
"Where?"
"Tempe."
We went there with Rachel and a private investigator.
The unit contained boxes.
Tax records.
Bank statements.
Old contracts.
Photographs.
And one locked metal cabinet.
Inside were handwritten notebooks.
Patricia's handwriting.
Years of notes.
Names.
Amounts.
Dates.
I opened one.
The first page said:
Daniel — weak when pressured.
I froze.
The next line:
Claire — predictable when children are involved.
I turned the page.
Emma — emotional attachment.
Lucas — father influence.
My hands started shaking.
Rachel took the notebook.
"Don't read everything alone."
But I already had.
Patricia had been documenting the family.
Not memories.
Weaknesses.
Every vulnerability.
Every argument.
Every financial concern.
Every disagreement between Daniel and me.
She had created a system for controlling everyone.
Then I found my name.
Claire:
Will tolerate disrespect to protect marriage.
Will sacrifice money for children.
Responds strongly to threats involving family.
I closed the notebook.
For three years, I had thought Patricia was simply difficult.
She wasn't.
She was strategic.
And she had been studying me.
Then Rachel found another folder.
Inside was a series of emails.
The first was from Patricia.
The second from an unknown sender.
The third contained a subject line that made Daniel go pale.
"Project Sunday."
"What is that?" I asked.
Daniel shook his head.
"I don't know."
Rachel opened it.
The email said:
Sunday dinner should be enough to make her leave.
If she refuses, escalate.
Daniel stared at the screen.
"Mom wrote that?"
"Apparently."
"To whom?"
Rachel clicked the sender information.
The address was linked to a private financial consultant.
A man named Harold Vance.
"Who is he?" I asked.
Daniel shook his head.
"I've never heard of him."
Rachel searched.
Then she looked up.
"He has represented your mother for years."
"What does he do?"
"Asset recovery."
"Recovery?"
"That's the strange part."
She turned the screen.
Harold Vance specialized in recovering assets from people who owed money.
But Patricia didn't owe money.
Unless she had created debts intentionally.
Rachel looked at us.
"I think your mother has been preparing to move the remaining assets out of the country."
Daniel's face went pale.
"How much?"
Rachel answered.
"Approximately nine million dollars."
I sat down.
Nine million.
She had already moved millions.
Now she was preparing to move the rest.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice said:
"You should stop investigating Patricia Brooks."
"Who are you?"
"You don't want to know."
"Then why call?"
"Because next time, your children may be involved."
The line went dead.
Daniel grabbed my hand.
"Call the police."
I did.
But while we waited, Rachel noticed something in the notebook.
A final entry.
Sunday dinner.
If Claire walks away, activate Plan B.
I stared at those words.
The slap wasn't an accident.
It hadn't been an emotional outburst.
Patricia had wanted me to leave.
But why?
Rachel looked at me.
"Because if you leave the family voluntarily, she can make you look unstable."
Daniel suddenly whispered:
May you like
"And take the children."
The room went cold.
