I stared at the wall.
“My father never had a business partner.”
“I know.”
“Who was he?”
My lawyer lowered his voice.
“Your mother knew him before she met your father.”
My stomach tightened.
“And Maribel?”
“His daughter.”
I looked toward the window.
Suddenly the photograph made sense.
The young woman.
The little girl.
The man.
My mother had been sending money to them for years.
But why?
My lawyer continued.
“We found something else.”
“What?”
“Your mother has been making payments to Maribel for almost nine years.”
“Nine?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Approximately eighty thousand dollars.”
I closed my eyes.
Almost eighty thousand.
On top of everything else.
Then my lawyer said,
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Your mother’s account received money from your transfers.”
I already knew that.
“But after receiving your money, she moved portions of it into another account.”
“Maribel’s?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
He gave me the account holder’s name.
My blood went cold.
Elias Kane.
I couldn’t breathe.
“But you said he died fourteen years ago.”
“He did.”
“Then how is there an account in his name?”
“We don’t know.”
I immediately understood.
Someone was still using it.
Someone who had access to my mother’s money.
Someone who had been hiding behind a dead man’s name.
And that person knew about me.
That night, I went to the house.
Selina was celebrating.
Godfrey had brought expensive food.
There was music playing.
For the first time in months, the house looked alive.
But the celebration wasn’t for Phedra.
It was for the money.
I walked into the room.
“What’s happening?”
Godfrey laughed.
“Celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“Our future.”
I looked at my mother.
She raised a glass.
“To family.”
