Chapter 9 - The Lie About My Father-In-Law
Ryan nearly dropped the phone.
“My father?”
Evelyn asked us to come to Charleston.
We drove there the next morning.
She met us in a small waterfront café.
The resemblance to Diane was obvious.
Same eyes.
Same sharp cheekbones.
Completely different expression.
Evelyn looked tired rather than hard.
She explained that North Pine Holdings had been created in her name because Diane couldn't put it in hers without Ryan's father noticing.
“But why would Dad be involved?” Ryan asked.
“He wasn't at first.”
Evelyn folded her hands.
“Your mother moved money through the company for years.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Why did Dad protect her?”
Evelyn looked at Ryan.
“Because when he discovered it, she told him you would lose everything if she went to prison.”
Ryan shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
“She claimed some of the transactions contained your signature.”
“They were forged.”
“Your father knew.”
“Then why protect her?”
Evelyn's eyes filled.
“Because she threatened to say you had authorized them.”
Ryan went silent.
I suddenly understood.
Diane hadn't only stolen money.
She had built a paper trail capable of making her own son look responsible.
Ryan whispered, “She framed me before I even knew there was a crime.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Your father spent the last year of his life quietly trying to untangle it.”
“Did he succeed?”
“Partially.”
She reached into her bag.
“I kept something.”
A small notebook.
Ryan opened it.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Amounts.
Initials.
His father's handwriting.
Evelyn pointed to several pages.
“These were the transactions he believed your mother created.”
Ryan turned page after page.
Then stopped.
A recent date appeared near the back.
Only ten months old.
“That can't be Dad's handwriting.”
“No.”
“Whose is it?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Mine.”
She had been tracking North Pine after Ryan's father died.
The transfers continued.
One payment from six months earlier caught my attention.
$85,000.
Recipient: HAWTHORNE FAMILY LAW.
I looked at Ryan.
“Family law?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Your mother started planning your divorce months before she ever handed Claire those papers.”
My throat tightened.
Six months earlier, I was barely showing.
Ryan turned to the next page.
Another payment.
$12,500.
Private Investigations.
Then another.
$9,800.
Digital Services.
Ryan stared at the words.
“She hired someone.”
Evelyn's face became grim.
May you like
“To do more than forge an email.”
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