Chapter 7 - THE ACCOUNT WITH MY MOTHER’S NAME ON IT
The college account had my mother’s handwriting attached to it.
Not literally.
But that was how I thought of it.
When Ava was born, my mother had given me a small envelope.
Inside was a check for $5,000.
On the memo line she had written:
For whatever dream she chooses.
When Grace was born two years later, Mom did the same thing.
After her death, I transferred both gifts into a broader education portfolio.
Preston and I added money over time.
Birthday money went there.
A portion of my freelance income went there.
My mother’s final inheritance distribution included another $90,000 earmarked for the girls.
The account was not simply money.
It was the last tangible thing my mother had created for her granddaughters.
Preston knew that.
He also knew I rarely checked the balance because I trusted him.
That mistake made me feel physically sick.
Rebecca instructed me not to contact him.
I agreed.
Then I walked behind Maeve’s cottage and cried where the girls could not see me.
I cried harder over that account than I had over my marriage.
Maeve found me ten minutes later.
She did not say anything.
She simply stood beside me.
Eventually, I wiped my face.
“I let him have access.”
Maeve frowned.
“He was their father.”
“I should have watched.”
“You should not need to guard your children’s education fund from their father.”
I stared toward the ocean in the distance.
“He used Mom’s money.”
Maeve’s face changed.
That part hurt her too.
“He knew what it was.”
“Yes.”
“And he still took it.”
“Yes.”
Maeve looked away.
For several seconds, her jaw moved as though she were chewing words she knew I did not need to hear.
Then she asked.
“Can Rebecca recover it?”
“She thinks so.”
“Good.”
“That doesn’t undo it.”
“No.”
Maeve looked back at me.
“But consequences matter.”
They did.
Rebecca filed an emergency preservation request that afternoon.
Not a custody motion.
A financial one.
The court temporarily froze Northline Strategic Holdings.
It froze the remaining funds in the related accounts.
It prohibited Preston from transferring property connected to disputed marital assets.
And it required documentation explaining the education account withdrawal.
Preston received notice at 9:11 a.m. Virginia time.
Daniel called him immediately.
Preston was driving to the paternity clinic with Brielle.
He nearly missed the exit.
“What do you mean frozen?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Can they freeze my business assets?”
“If they are potentially marital and subject to a fraud claim, yes.”
Brielle turned toward him from the passenger seat.
“What’s frozen?”
He ignored her.
Daniel continued.
“The judge granted a temporary preservation order.”
“How did Rebecca get in front of a judge that fast?”
“She had documentation involving funds from accounts designated for the children.”
Preston’s face changed.
Brielle watched him.
“What children’s accounts?”
He turned toward the window.
“Nothing.”
Daniel heard her.
“Is Brielle with you?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
“No.”
“Then pull over.”
“I’m driving.”
“Pull over.”
Preston swore under his breath but moved onto the shoulder.
Brielle looked anxious.
“What’s happening?”
Preston put the phone on speaker.
Daniel spoke.
“Brielle, did Preston ever tell you where the down payment for the Northline condominium came from?”
She stared at the phone.
“No.”
Preston interrupted.
“She doesn’t know anything.”
Daniel ignored him.
“Did you participate in the purchase?”
“Yes.”
“In what capacity?”
“Preston said it would eventually be ours.”
Preston closed his eyes.
Daniel asked.
“Did you contribute money?”
“No.”
“How much did Preston tell you the down payment was?”
Brielle hesitated.
“Two hundred thousand, I think.”
Preston stared at her.
Daniel continued.
“It was one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
“Okay.”
“It came from an account established for Ava and Grace.”
Brielle’s face drained.
“What?”
Preston grabbed the phone.
“Enough.”
Daniel’s voice sharpened.
“No.”
“You need to hear this.”
“I know what account it came from.”
Brielle turned toward him.
“You told me it was investment cash.”
“It was.”
Daniel corrected him.
“It was not.”
Preston shouted.
“It was my money.”
Brielle flinched.
Daniel became quiet.
“No.”
“Part of that account came from Lena’s late mother.”
Preston looked through the windshield.
Brielle stared at him.
“You used your daughters’ money?”
“I intended to replace it.”
“When?”
He did not answer.
Brielle’s voice rose.
“When?”
“Once the Westbridge deal closed.”
“That deal closed in March.”
Preston went still.
Brielle understood.
“You never replaced it.”
“I was going to.”
She stared at him.
“You let me pick kitchen cabinets for a condo paid for with your daughters’ college money.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
Brielle laughed in disbelief.
“You keep saying that.”
Preston looked toward her.
“You are hardly in a position to judge me right now.”
Brielle’s expression changed.
There it was.
His preferred defense.
Whenever confronted, attack the person confronting him.
She looked away.
Daniel continued.
“The court is going to require an accounting.”
Preston asked.
“Can I repay it now?”
“Possibly.”
“Then do that.”
“The withdrawal itself remains evidence.”
“I said replace it.”
“I heard you.”
Daniel paused.
“Where will the $180,000 come from?”
Preston did not answer.
Most of his liquid accounts were now frozen or under review.
Brielle looked at him.
“The paternity test appointment is in fifteen minutes.”
He rubbed his face.
“I know.”
Daniel spoke one final sentence.
“Go to the appointment.”
“Then call me.”
“And Preston?”
“What?”
“Do not move money.”
The call ended.
Brielle and Preston remained silent.
Finally, she opened the passenger door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking a rideshare.”
“To the clinic?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because I suddenly don’t trust you to drive me anywhere.”
She stepped out.
Preston stared at her.
“You lied about the baby.”
She leaned down toward the open window.
“And you stole from your daughters.”
Neither of them spoke.
Brielle straightened.
“For once, maybe we should stop competing over which betrayal is worse.”
Then she shut the door.
At the clinic, the prenatal paternity test was performed with a blood draw from Brielle and a cheek swab from Preston.
The results would take approximately one week.
Preston asked whether the test could be wrong.
The nurse said accuracy was extremely high.
He asked whether Evan also needed to provide a sample.
No.
If Preston’s DNA did not match, the result would exclude him.
That answer seemed to frighten him more.
Brielle sat across the room.
They barely spoke.
When the appointment ended, Preston tried to leave beside her.
She stopped him.
“I’m going home alone.”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“That’s what Lena keeps telling me.”
Brielle almost smiled.
“Maybe start listening when women say it.”
He stared at her.
She walked away.
Preston stood alone outside the clinic.
His phone rang.
This time the caller was Ava.
Or rather, Ava was calling through FamilyBridge.
His expression changed instantly.
He answered.
“Ava?”
My daughter’s face appeared.
She looked serious.
“Hi.”
Preston smiled cautiously.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“I only have one question.”
His smile faded.
“Okay.”
Ava took a breath.
“Did you take money Grandma Hartwell left us?”
Preston went completely still.
I was sitting several feet away.
I had not told Ava everything.
But she had overheard part of my conversation with Maeve.
I had explained the rest because I refused to lie.
Preston looked directly into the camera.
“Who told you that?”
Ava’s expression hardened.
“Did you?”
“Ava, finances are complicated.”
“That means yes.”
“No.”
Preston hurried to correct himself.
“It means adults sometimes move money between accounts.”
“That was our money.”
“It was family money.”
“It had Grandma’s name on the papers.”
Preston swallowed.
“I was going to put it back.”
Ava’s eyes filled with tears.
“But you didn’t.”
“I will.”
“What did you buy?”
Preston looked away.
That was enough.
Ava whispered.
“Was it for the baby?”
“No.”
His answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
She stared at him.
“Was it for Brielle?”
Preston said nothing.
Ava’s face crumpled.
I moved forward, ready to end the call.
She lifted one hand toward me.
Not yet.
My daughter looked into the screen.
“You missed my science night because you said work was important.”
Preston’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“You said dance camp cost too much.”
“Ava.”
“You told Mom we had to be responsible with money.”
He closed his eyes.
“Ava.”
“And you took Grandma’s money to buy something for Brielle?”
“I made a mistake.”
Ava stared at him.
That sentence did not impress her.
Children understand something adults often forget.
Calling something a mistake does not erase the decision that created it.
Ava wiped her cheek.
Then she asked the question that broke what little composure Preston still had.
“If the baby turns out not to be yours, do we get to matter again?”
Preston could not answer.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Ava ended the call herself.
The screen went black.
Preston stood outside the clinic holding his phone.
Cars moved behind him.
People walked past.
Nobody knew that a nine-year-old girl had just asked him the one question he had spent three days avoiding.
May you like
If the boy was not his, did his daughters suddenly become valuable again?
And if the boy was his, what exactly had Preston intended to do with the daughters he already had?
