Chapter 7 - Beverly’s Debt
Beverly did not cooperate out of conscience.
She cooperated because bank called.
Her private line of credit was secured partly by assets indirectly connected to Stanford-backed family arrangements.
Clause One did not freeze her personal accounts.
But strict enforcement meant extensions stopped.
Her gambling debt became visible.
At 10:00 the next morning, Beverly arrived at Wayne’s office in sunglasses and a cream suit.
No pink robe.
No laughter.
Her attorney came.
She refused to sit near me.
“Your father designed this to destroy us.”
“No.”
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“You enjoyed walking out.”
“No.”
That confused her.
Revenge was language she understood.
Boundary was not.
Then she said:
“I never touched your father’s money.”
Wayne slid statements.
Some Crestview vendor reimbursements paid Beverly’s private club charges.
She went quiet.
“Edwin handled that.”
“Did you know?”
“I assumed he was helping.”
“With company money?”
“I didn’t ask.”
There.
Her privilege depended on not asking.
Then jewelry.
“Did you know Annika sold mine?”
Beverly looked away.
“Yes.”
“How many pieces?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you tell her to?”
“Once.”
“Which?”
“Bracelet.”
Dad’s graduation gift.
I nodded.
“Why?”
“I owed money.”
“Why not sell your jewelry?”
Her face tightened.
“I did.”
“Then why mine?”
“Because yours was worth more.”
That simple.
Entitlement without poetry.
Then:
“Why did you humiliate me?”
Her lawyer shifted.
Not legally relevant maybe, but I wanted answer.
Beverly looked at me.
“Because George made me feel poor.”
That surprised.
“You were never poor.”
“Next to him?”
There.
Class envy.
Stanford family old investments, property, business group.
Mercers wealthy but leveraged.
Beverly hated that Dad could rescue Crestview whenever Edwin needed.
She hated me for being proof.
“So you called me freeloader.”
“Yes.”
“Even though my family funded lifestyle.”
Her eyes filled.
“I hated that too.”
At least honest.
Then:
“Did you know Edwin cheated?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“A year.”
“Did you encourage?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him stop?”
“I told him be careful.”
There.
Not moral objection.
Image management.
Then Victor Hale.
“Did you hire him before Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“To investigate Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To understand trust.”
“Why?”
“Because George controlled too much.”
“Did he illegally obtain medical information?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you care?”
“No.”
Honest and ugly.
Then note:
grief makes her compliant.
“Did you say that?”
She stared.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We thought after George died, you would sign restructuring papers to preserve marriage.”
“What if I didn’t?”
She did not answer.
“Is that why Edwin locked door?”
“I don’t know.”
I believed she might not know exact humiliation.
Then:
“Did you know Clause One?”
“Bits.”
“Did you think I’d activate?”
She almost smiled.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you never fought us.”
That was answer.
Then Beverly said:
“You think you’re different now because George died.”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“I stopped thinking survival of marriage was more important than my dignity.”
She looked away.
Then Wayne asked about Crestview board.
Beverly knew one director personally:
Harold Finch.
Why matter?
Harold had repeatedly voted with Edwin.
Any payments?
Consulting contract through Beverly Events.
Conflict maybe undisclosed.
Forensic review later found Harold’s wife’s firm received event work from Beverly.
Not necessarily bribery.
But disclosure issues.
Board governance expanded.
Then Beverly whispered to her attorney.
He nodded.
She said:
“There’s one document you haven’t found.”
“What?”
“Postnuptial agreement.”
I froze.
“We don’t have one.”
“Edwin does.”
“What?”
“He has a signed copy.”
Impossible.
I never signed postnup.
She described:
waives claims to certain Crestview interests,
acknowledges Camila Consulting,
ratifies past financial transactions.
Perfect cover.
“My signature?”
“Yes.”
“Forged?”
Beverly said:
“I don’t know.”
But face did.
“Who witnessed?”
She swallowed.
“I did.”
There.
Then:
“Did you see me sign?”
“No.”
“Whose signature?”
“I assumed Edwin handled it.”
Another assumption.
Not enough.
Then notary.
Name:
Patricia Wells.
Who was Patricia?
Beverly’s longtime friend.
Retired notary.
If notarization false, more serious.
We found document in Edwin’s home safe later through proper legal discovery/warrant? In divorce/corporate investigation. Initial copy Beverly provided from email.
Signature looked mine.
Notary seal.
Date:
night of our fifth anniversary.
I remembered.
Champagne.
Edwin gave me several “insurance updates” while I was tired.
Did I sign something that looked similar?
Maybe.
This could be altered document rather than full forgery.
Important.
Forensic document examination required.
Then I remembered one page.
I signed only last page because Edwin said rest were unchanged beneficiary forms.
Did he substitute pages?
Possible.
Beverly said:
“Patricia notarized later.”
Without me present.
There.
Even if signature genuine, acknowledgment/attachment could be fraudulent.
Then Wayne’s assistant interrupted.
Police? Better outside counsel.
Victor Hale had been found unconscious? No melodrama.
He contacted attorney voluntarily after learning files seized.
He wanted cooperate.
May you like
And Victor said something none expected:
George Stanford hired him first.
