Chapter 2 - Eleanor’s Favorite Son
Julian snatched the statements.
“What is this?”
“Read.”
Eleanor immediately lunged across the table.
“Give those to me.”
That reaction told Julian more than the documents did.
He pulled them away.
“Mom?”
“Those are private financial documents!”
“Are they real?”
Silence.
Julian looked at the first transfer.
Then another.
Then another.
Payments flowed from an account controlled by Eleanor into several entities in Ohio.
One belonged to Julian’s younger brother, Preston.
Preston was thirty-two.
He had never maintained a job longer than eighteen months.
Yet somehow, he was constructing a six-bedroom house outside Columbus.
Julian looked sick.
“You told me you were putting this into investments.”
“I was investing.”
“In Preston?”
“He needs help.”
Julian threw the papers down.
“You told me Claire was bleeding us dry!”
Eleanor immediately pointed at me.
“Because she is!”
I almost laughed.
“Interesting.”
I reached into the drawer again.
This time, I removed a ledger.
“For fourteen months, Julian contributed exactly zero dollars toward this household.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That’s impossible.”
“Mortgage?”
“I pay it.”
“No.”
“HOA?”
“I pay that too.”
“No.”
“Property taxes?”
“No.”
His confidence began slipping.
I turned the ledger toward him.
“Your salary has been disappearing into Eleanor’s accounts while every household expense has been paid from mine.”
Eleanor sneered.
“Your little savings account?”
I looked at her.
“Yes, Eleanor.”
“My little savings account.”
Then I picked up my phone.
Julian laughed nervously.
“And what exactly is that supposed to prove?”
I looked toward the fourth untouched bowl of ramen.
Neither of them had asked why I had set four places.
Not yet.
Then the private elevator chimed.
Julian turned.
“Who the hell is that?”
I sat down.
“My guest.”
The doors opened.
An older man stepped into the penthouse.
Charcoal suit.
Silver hair.
Leather portfolio.
Julian recognized him.
His expression collapsed.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
Thomas Whitmore had been our closing attorney when we moved into the penthouse.
He looked directly at Julian.
“Mr. Hayes.”
May you like
Then he placed a thick folder on the table.
“I understand there appears to be some confusion regarding ownership of this property.”
