Chapter 7 - The account for Lucas
The account held $1.14 million.
Custodial investment trust.
Beneficiary: Lucas Bell.
Established eighteen months earlier.
Initial deposit sourced from my home-equity line.
Rita went pale when Helen confronted her.
“I didn’t know.”
“Are you trustee?”
“No.”
“Who is?”
“Victor.”
Of course.
The money wasn’t a gift to Rita.
It was a hidden inheritance for his son.
Using my house as collateral.
I expected rage.
Instead, I thought about Lucas.
Seventeen.
His father had built his future with money stolen from a woman the boy might barely know existed.
I refused to turn him into another villain simply because Victor had used him.
Helen immediately filed actions to challenge the loan authorization and preserve the funds.
Then Victor left the hospital.
He did not call me first.
He called Rita.
She put the call on speaker with her attorney present.
“Where are you?”
Her voice stayed steady.
“At home.”
Lie.
Victor said:
“Don’t go near Brookline. Sarah did something insane.”
Rita looked at me.
“What?”
“She burned the house.”
My mouth went dry.
There it was.
His story.
Already formed.
“How do you know?” Rita asked.
“She left right before it happened.”
“But you were in the hospital.”
“I know Sarah.”
Twenty-two years reduced to a convenient accusation.
Then:
“Once police figure it out, she’s finished.”
Rita swallowed.
“And the deed?”
“We’ll fix it another way.”
“What about Lucas’s trust?”
Silence.
Victor had not expected her to know I knew.
“What about it?”
“The money came from Sarah’s house.”
Long pause.
Then Victor’s voice changed.
“Who told you?”
Rita ended the call.
Within an hour, Victor’s lawyer contacted police claiming I had threatened to destroy the property before leaving the hospital.
I had not.
Who would support that story?
Martin Kline.
Still missing.
Then hotel security called my room.
A man had left something at reception.
No name.
A blue folder.
My heart pounded as Helen opened it.
Inside were forged estate papers.
Forged deed forms.
My medical information.
And correspondence between Victor and Kline.
But the most shocking document wasn't about the house.
It was a life-insurance policy.
Ten million dollars.
Insured:
Sarah Miller Vance.
Beneficiary:
Victor Vance.
Policy issued four months earlier.
I had never applied for it.
Helen kept reading.
Her face changed.
“Sarah.”
“What?”
“The medical questionnaire says you have no kidney disease, no cancer history, no pending diagnostic investigations.”
May you like
Someone hadn't merely expected me to die.
Someone had financially prepared for it.
