One early payment came from a business belonging to Marcus Vale’s father.
Another came from my father’s accounting firm.
Evelyn stared at the statement.
“Could your father have been involved?”
“No.”
The answer escaped too quickly.
She did not challenge me. “Then perhaps he was investigating it.”
The letter continued.
I believed Mercer Development could become something honest. I also believed Daniel understood that. I may have been mistaken about the people advising him.
Do not confront anyone until you know who owns the Halcyon Trust.
The files ended there.
No explanation.
No ownership record.
No final conclusion.
I barely slept.
At breakfast, Noah pushed blueberries around his plate and asked when he could return to school. I had arranged a temporary absence, telling the administration there was a family emergency.
“Soon,” I promised.
He looked toward the window. “Dad makes pancakes on Saturdays.”
It was Saturday.
The simple observation carried more grief than accusation.
