Lena Morris opened another document.
“There is also evidence your parents took out loans using property that should have belonged to your trust.”
“How much?”
“Nearly four million dollars.”
Wyatt looked sick.
I stared at the bandages covering my hands where the nurses had cleaned dried blood from beneath my nails.
My parents had stolen my inheritance.
My sister had built a company from it.
And when the truth was about to surface, they had decided to erase me.
“What about Walter?” I asked.
Detective Beckett’s jaw tightened.
“He’s awake.”
“Did he talk?”
“Yes.”
The detective pulled his chair closer.
“Walter Pike was your grandfather’s accountant. He discovered irregular withdrawals shortly before Harold’s death.”
“What kind of withdrawals?”
“Money transferred to accounts controlled by your father.”
I struggled to process it.
“Why didn’t he report it?”
“He tried.”
“What happened?”
“Your grandfather died before they could confront your father publicly.”
