Chapter 7
Dad arrived at eight-thirty.
Chloe arrived at eight-forty-two carrying four coffees and a paper bag of pastries.
“You said a lot,” she explained.
Nobody laughed.
We sat around my kitchen island.
It felt strangely familiar.
Another family meeting around another table.
But this time I owned the room.
Nobody could order me out.
I placed copies of Gwendolyn’s strategic plan in front of them.
Dad read silently.
Chloe lasted less than three pages.
“She wrote this?”
“Yes.”
“She actually called me a leverage point?”
“Yes.”
Chloe pushed the paper away.
“What is wrong with her?”
Dad closed his eyes.
I watched him carefully.
For years, he had treated Gwendolyn’s behavior as emotion.
Temper.
Jealousy.
Stress.
He could no longer hide behind those explanations.
“This is manipulation,” I said. “Not a misunderstanding.”
Dad nodded.
“Why are you telling us?”
“Because she plans to use all three of us against one another.”
Chloe folded her arms.
“She already tried.”
“How?”
“She told me Paige wanted to take away my tuition.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She said the trust lawyers were reviewing money Dad spent on me.”
“That isn’t true.”
“I figured.”
Dad looked alarmed.
“She told me Paige was considering criminal charges against me.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
I leaned against the counter.
“She is trying to isolate each of us.”
Chloe stared at the strategic plan.
“What does she actually want?”
I explained the Grant endowment.
Dad looked stunned.
“Eleanor’s father created that?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
For once, I believed him.
Mom had finally kept a secret from the right person.
“The money can only fund charitable projects,” I explained. “Gwendolyn apparently believes that if she gets influence over Desert Haven, she can help determine where those grants go.”
“Into companies she controls,” Chloe said.
“Exactly.”
Dad looked physically sick.
“She used me for eighteen years.”
I did not soften the truth.
“Yes.”
He looked at Chloe.
“And she used you.”
Chloe’s jaw tightened.
“I’m aware.”
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Dad said, “What do you need from us?”
The question surprised me.
Not what are you going to do?
Not please stop.
What do you need from us?
Maybe losing the house had finally forced something inside him to change.
“I need you both to stop having private conversations with her.”
Chloe frowned.
“You want us to cut her off?”
“No.”
They looked confused.
“I want transparency.”
I tapped the papers.
“Gwendolyn wins when information is separated. If she tells you something about me, ask me. If she tells Dad something about Chloe, ask Chloe.”
Dad nodded.
“No secrets.”
“No secret alliances.”
Chloe looked skeptical.
“She’s still my mother.”
“I know.”
“I’m not promising never to see her.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
That softened her expression.
“I’m asking you not to let her translate reality for you.”
Chloe looked down.
“I did that for years.”
“So did I.”
Dad swallowed.
“So did I.”
It was perhaps the first honest family agreement we had ever made.
That afternoon, Warren informed me that Richard Vale had requested a meeting.
“He knows we found the storage unit.”
“How?”
“Gwendolyn told him.”
“Where is she?”
“Staying at a hotel in Scottsdale.”
“Why would Richard meet us now?”
“He says he wants protection.”
“From Gwendolyn?”
“Yes.”
We met Richard at Warren’s office the next morning.
The man in person seemed smaller than the mystery surrounding him.
Thin shoulders.
Gray skin.
Trembling hands.
A medical bandage covered part of his forearm.
He looked at Vivian first.
“I’m sorry.”
Vivian said nothing.
Then he looked at me.
“You look like Eleanor.”
“So everybody keeps telling me.”
“I suppose you hate hearing it.”
“No.”
That appeared to surprise him.
He sat.
Warren activated a recorder with everyone’s consent.
Richard began talking.
The charity theft had started with seventeen thousand dollars.
Gwendolyn owed money after a failed private business investment.
She begged Richard to temporarily move funds from a reserve account.
He refused.
Then they began an affair.
Richard looked ashamed.
“She was very good at making people feel chosen.”
I thought of Dad.
Same method.
Different man.
Eventually Richard authorized a fraudulent vendor payment.
Gwendolyn promised to return the money.
She never did.
Then came another transfer.
And another.
By the time Richard tried to stop, his signature appeared everywhere.
“She owned me,” he said.
“No,” Vivian replied coldly. “You gave her leverage.”
Richard accepted the correction.
“Yes.”
My mother discovered the discrepancies.
Richard panicked.
Gwendolyn devised the fake death.
“Why?” I asked.
“To make Eleanor stop searching.”
“You could have gone to police.”
“I was afraid.”
“Everybody was afraid except my dying mother.”
Richard lowered his head.
“Yes.”
He admitted meeting Mom secretly years later.
He gave her the recorded confession.
Then he disappeared again.
“So why return now?” I asked.
Richard looked toward me.
“Gwendolyn found me last year.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she want?”
“The endowment.”
“How did she know about it?”
“I made a mistake twenty years ago.”
“What mistake?”
“I saw one statement from the Grant Family Housing Endowment. She found my notes.”
“Did she know where it was held?”
“No.”
“Does she now?”
Richard hesitated.
“Maybe.”
Warren leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“Six months ago, she asked me to contact the fiduciary administrator.”
“As yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To request historical records.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did they provide them?”
“No.”
Relief.
“They required identity verification and documentation I didn’t have.”
“So you created Prescott Community Development instead.”
Richard nodded.
“The plan was to gain influence over an eligible nonprofit.”
“And then?”
“Apply for grants.”
“Directed toward vendors you controlled?”
Richard’s silence answered.
“How much did Gwendolyn expect to obtain?”
“Five million over several years.”
I stared at him.
“The endowment only had two point eight million when Mom recorded her video.”
Richard gave me a sad look.
“That was more than a decade ago.”
Warren opened his laptop.
“Current value?”
Richard whispered, “Approximately eleven point four million.”
Even Warren became silent.
The endowment had grown through investments.
Eleven point four million dollars intended to provide housing for people rebuilding their lives.
Gwendolyn saw a pool of money.
Mom saw homes.
That difference somehow summarized everything.
Richard agreed to provide evidence.
Emails.
Draft applications.
Vendor lists.
Payment instructions.
He also revealed something we had not discovered.
“Gwendolyn created three additional companies.”
He wrote the names down.
Two were consulting firms.
The third made Chloe suddenly relevant.
C.P. MEDIA STRATEGIES.
C.P.
Chloe Price.
I stared at Richard.
“What is that?”
“A marketing company.”
“Who owns it?”
“Gwendolyn registered it in Chloe’s name.”
My stomach dropped.
“Does Chloe know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
I called Chloe immediately.
She answered from campus.
“What’s wrong?”
“Have you ever formed a company called C.P. Media Strategies?”
“No.”
“Has your mother ever asked you to sign business paperwork?”
Silence.
“Chloe.”
“She had me sign some documents when I turned eighteen.”
“What documents?”
“She said they were tax forms connected to money she saved for me.”
“Do you have copies?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Come to Warren’s office.”
Within an hour, Chloe sat beside me.
Richard explained the company.
The color drained from her face.
“Am I in trouble?”
Warren answered.
“Not if you were deceived and didn’t knowingly participate.”
“Did she put money through it?”
Richard nodded.
“How much?”
“About ninety thousand dollars so far.”
Chloe looked like she might be sick.
“My mom used my identity?”
“Yes.”
She stood abruptly.
“I need air.”
I followed her into the hallway.
She pressed both hands against the wall.
“I defended her.”
“You’re her daughter.”
“I defended her to you.”
“I know.”
“I called you jealous.”
“I remember.”
“I took your clothes.”
“Yes.”
“I mocked you when you left.”
I said nothing.
She turned.
“Why aren’t you angry?”
“I was.”
“Was?”
“For years.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
This was not the dramatic apology I once imagined wanting.
There was no satisfaction.
Only a tired eighteen-year-old discovering that the person she trusted most had been willing to attach her name to financial fraud.
“I believe you,” I said.
She started crying.
I hugged her.
It was the first time we had embraced.
Not stepsisters.
Not almost half-sisters.
Not rivals.
Just two women who had been placed on opposite sides of someone else’s strategy before we were old enough to understand the game.
That evening, Chloe agreed to cooperate fully.
Her electronic signatures were examined.
Several had been copied from a legitimate document.
Others appeared digitally reproduced.
Forensic analysis eventually confirmed she had not signed most of them.
Gwendolyn’s position worsened rapidly.
But she still did not retreat.
Instead, she called Chloe.
Chloe put the phone on speaker.
“Sweetheart,” Gwendolyn said.
Chloe looked at me.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I heard you’ve been spending time with Paige.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Be careful.”
“Why?”
“Because she is using you.”
Chloe’s face changed.
“How?”
“She needs someone to blame for the financial documents.”
I watched Chloe’s hand tighten around the phone.
“You mean the company you put in my name?”
Silence.
Then Gwendolyn’s voice became cold.
“Who told you that?”
“It’s true?”
“I was building something for your future.”
“With fake signatures?”
“Watch your tone.”
Chloe’s eyes hardened.
For nine years, I had heard those words directed at me.
Now she heard them differently.
“No,” Chloe said.
Gwendolyn went silent.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
Chloe’s voice trembled, but she continued.
“You don’t get to tell me how to speak while I’m asking why you used my name.”
“Paige has poisoned you.”
“No. Paige showed me documents.”
“Documents can be manipulated.”
“So can people.”
I looked at Chloe.
She looked back.
Gwendolyn inhaled sharply.
“You will regret choosing her over your own mother.”
Chloe’s eyes filled with tears.
But her voice remained steady.
“This isn’t choosing Paige over you.”
She paused.
“It’s choosing myself.”
Then she ended the call.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Finally, Chloe wiped her face.
“Was that dramatic?”
“A little.”
“Good.”
I smiled despite myself.
Then Warren’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What?”
We all watched him.
He listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
“The Phoenix house was broken into twenty minutes ago.”
My smile disappeared.
“What was taken?”
Warren looked at me.
“Nothing.”
“Then why break in?”
“They went directly to the west study.”
My blood turned cold.
“The hidden room?”
May you like
“Yes.”
“Whoever entered the house knew exactly where it was.”
