I called Grant before I finished reading his third message.
He answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Don’t come here.”
“You just told me you know where Celeste is.”
“I said I know where she is. I didn’t say you should come.”
I stood in Rachel’s conference room with everyone watching me. Martin had turned his laptop around, but the transfer from my account remained visible on the screen.
“Did you move two-point-one million dollars three days ago?”
Grant stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“From the account in my name.”
“No.”
“Your credentials authorized it.”
“I haven’t used those credentials in months.”
“Who has them?”
“Nobody.”
I looked at Rachel.
She mouthed, Ask about Celeste.
“Could Celeste have them?”
Grant’s silence lasted too long.
“Grant.”
“She might.”
“How?”
“She helped me set up remote access when I started doing transfers for Frank.”
My stomach tightened. “You gave your mistress credentials connected to accounts in my name?”
“I didn’t know your account was one of them then.”
“That distinction is not helping you.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
“Outside the city.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
I laughed once. “Every man in my life has apparently been protecting me by hiding things.”
“Emily, please listen.”
“No. You listen. You sent me a photograph of Peter Hall’s files. You told me you know where Celeste is. Now you’re refusing to say where. Either you’re helping us or you’re still helping yourself.”
Grant was quiet.
Then he gave me an address.
Martin typed it into his computer.
A map appeared.
The location was almost ninety minutes away, in a rural area beyond the suburbs.
“What is it?” I asked Grant.
“A cabin.”
“Whose?”
“Celeste said it belonged to someone she trusted.”
Martin began searching property records.
“Is she there now?”
“She was an hour ago.”
“You saw her?”
“Yes.”
Rachel held out her hand for the phone. I put Grant on speaker instead.
“Grant,” she said, “this is Rachel Morgan. Do not remove, alter, or destroy anything in that storage unit. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Where are the original Peter Hall records?”
“With me.”
Rachel’s expression hardened. “Why?”
“Because Celeste told me to take them.”
“Where?”
“To you.”
I looked at Rachel.
She said, “Bring them directly to my office.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Frank knows.”
A chill moved through the room.
“What does he know?” I asked.
“That I met Celeste.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Somebody followed me from the storage facility.”
Martin stopped typing.
“Describe the vehicle.”
“Black SUV. I lost it twenty minutes ago.”
“Did you get a plate?”
“No.”
Rachel asked, “Are you in immediate danger?”
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t useful.”
“Nothing about this is useful.”
For the first time, Grant sounded less guilty than genuinely frightened.
“Where is Celeste now?” I asked again.
“At the cabin.”
“Why didn’t she come with you?”
“She refused.”
“Why?”
“She said somebody had to stay with the rest.”
“The rest of what?”
“The records.”
Martin and Rachel exchanged a look.
“How many records?” Rachel asked.
“A lot.”
“Paper?”
“Paper, drives, old backup disks. Things Peter copied.”
“And Celeste kept all of this for years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant gave a tired laugh.
“Because she was waiting for the day Frank tried to destroy her too.”
I looked at Mom.
She had gone pale.
Martin turned his laptop toward us.
“I found the property.”
“Who owns it?” Rachel asked.
He read the screen twice.
Then he looked at Mom.
“Judith Bennett.”
Mom stared at him.
“What?”
“The cabin is owned by a trust naming you as beneficiary.”
“I don’t own a cabin.”
Dad had done it again.
Another property.
Another structure.
Another family member who did not know what existed in their own name.
“Where is it?” Mom asked.
Martin showed her the map.
Her hand rose to her mouth.
“I know that place.”
We all looked at her.
“You said you didn’t own it.”
“I don’t. But Frank used to take Daniel there.”
“When?”
“When Daniel was in college. Hunting trips. Weekends.”
“Did you ever go?”
“Once. Years ago.”
Martin enlarged the property record.
“The trust acquired it seventeen years ago.”
Mom shook her head. “Nobody told me.”
I looked at the address again.
Celeste had chosen a hiding place connected to my mother.
Not accidentally.
“Does Dad know she’s there?” I asked.
Mom whispered, “If he remembers the property, yes.”
Rachel immediately told Grant not to return to the cabin.
Then she made another call.
I listened to only half of it before understanding she was contacting law enforcement through someone she knew.
Dad’s financial records were one thing.
A frightened witness, disputed millions, stolen credentials, and a possible pursuit had changed the situation.
“We are not driving there ourselves,” Rachel said when she finished.
I had not realized until then that I was holding my car keys.
“She has evidence.”
“And possibly someone looking for her.”
“She may have moved money from my account.”
“Which is another reason you don’t confront her without knowing the circumstances.”
Mom touched my arm.
“Rachel’s right.”
I looked at her.
“You want to wait?”
“No. I want to go.”
“Mom.”
“If that property is in my name, I’m done being told where I’m allowed to go.”
Rachel closed her eyes briefly.
“You two are remarkably similar.”
Under different circumstances, I might have laughed.
Martin arranged for copies of the property documents while Rachel continued making calls. Grant agreed to drive directly to a location Rachel chose and hand over Peter Hall’s boxes.
He arrived forty minutes later.
When he walked into the conference room carrying the first box, Mom stood and moved away from him.
Grant stopped.
“Judith.”
She said nothing.
He carried in all three boxes.
On the top one, Peter Hall’s name was written in faded marker.
Rachel photographed the sealed boxes before anyone opened them.
Inside the first were financial statements, handwritten notes, and copies of transfers dating back more than a decade.
The second contained correspondence.
The third held drives and labeled backup media.
Martin put on gloves before touching anything.
I watched him lift a folder.
“Here.”
He laid it on the table.
The label read:
BENNETT FAMILY STRUCTURES.
Inside were diagrams that looked disturbingly similar to the chart Martin had created.
Trusts.
Companies.
Properties.
Accounts.
Names.
My name.
Daniel’s.
Mom’s.
Dad’s.
Even my children’s names appeared on one handwritten sheet.
My heart began pounding.
“Why are my kids here?”
Martin leaned closer.
Beside Holly, Mason, and Eli were abbreviations and dates.
Rachel read silently.
“These appear to be proposed future trust beneficiaries.”
“Did Dad create accounts for them too?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked at Grant.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did Dad ever talk about using the children’s names?”
Grant shook his head. “Not with me.”
Mom sat down hard.
“This has to stop.”
Nobody disagreed.
In another folder, Peter had written a memorandum to himself.
Rachel read it while Martin photographed each page.
Peter described transfers between companies that seemed designed to shift liabilities away from one entity while moving assets elsewhere. He repeatedly questioned whether beneficial owners understood their names were being used.
One sentence was underlined twice:
Family members appear unaware of extent of beneficial designations.
My throat tightened.
Peter Hall had known.
Years before Grant’s first loan.
Years before Celeste slept with my husband.
Someone had noticed that my father was constructing a financial world around us while leaving us ignorant of our roles inside it.
The office phone rang.
Rachel answered.
Her expression changed as she listened.
Then she wrote something down.
When she hung up, she looked at me.
“Authorities reached the cabin.”
I stood.
“And?”
“Celeste is alive. She’s there.”
Relief came before anger.
“Is she okay?”
“Apparently.”
“Can we see her?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“She’s speaking with investigators.”
Grant leaned forward. “Did she say anything about the money?”
Rachel looked at him.
“No.”
“Did they find the records?”
“They found a substantial amount of material.”
Dad’s hidden world was beginning to exist outside his control.
Then Rachel’s phone rang again.
This time she listened for less than a minute.
“What?” I asked when she ended the call.
“There was another person at the cabin.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“She was not inside when officers arrived. She was found nearby.”
“Who?”
Rachel looked at Mom.
“Your husband.”
Nobody moved.
Mom’s voice came out almost soundless.
“Frank?”
Rachel nodded.
Dad had known exactly where the cabin was.
He had reached Celeste before we did.
Grant stood.
“What was he doing there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was she hurt?”
“No indication of that.”
“Then why was he nearby?”
Rachel gave him a hard look. “Sit down.”
Grant did.
Mom stared at the conference table.
“I want to talk to him.”
“No,” Rachel said.
“He’s my husband.”
“And right now there are investigators determining why he was at a property connected to you where a missing employee was hiding with disputed company records.”
Mom’s eyes lifted.
For once, she accepted the instruction.
An hour later, Rachel received permission to speak briefly with Celeste by phone.
She put the call on speaker only after Celeste agreed.
The voice that came through was calm, low, and exhausted.
“Is Emily there?”
I looked at Rachel.
“Yes,” I said.
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry.”
The words infuriated me.
“For which part?”
Grant looked down.
Celeste answered quietly. “All of it.”
“You slept with my husband.”
“Yes.”
“You helped him move money.”
“Yes.”
“You accessed accounts in my name.”
“Yes.”
Grant looked up sharply.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“Did you move the two-point-one million?”
“No.”
“Your access made it possible.”
“Yes.”
“Who moved it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I know.”
“Why did you choose Grant?”
The silence stretched.
Finally Celeste said, “Because he was already inside.”
“Inside what?”
“Your father’s financial system.”
“Grant says you wanted access to the family accounts.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because Peter spent years trying to prove your father was using family trusts and related companies to hide where money originated and where liabilities ended up.”
“Did you seduce Grant to get access?”
Grant flinched.
Celeste did not answer immediately.
“Yes.”
The word seemed to empty the room.
Grant stared at the speaker.
“You told me—”
“I know what I told you.”
His face went white.
I should have felt satisfaction.
I did not.
Watching someone discover that an affair had been built partly on manipulation did not repair the person betrayed by the affair.
It only added another layer of ugliness.
Grant whispered, “Was any of it real?”
Celeste’s voice changed.
“Some of it became real.”
He looked away.
I asked, “And the six hundred forty thousand?”
“I moved it because I needed leverage and because Frank was preparing to make Grant responsible for transactions that came from Frank’s instructions.”
“You stole it.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“Preserved.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s in an account investigators can recover.”
Rachel leaned toward the phone.
“Ms. Laurent, did you move the two-point-one million from the account identifying Emily as beneficial owner?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“I have a suspicion.”
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
I stared at the speaker.
“My brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Frank gave him access years ago.”
I thought of Daniel telling me I could ruin all of us.
“Did Daniel know what Dad was doing?”
“More than you did.”
“How much more?”
“Enough to be afraid.”
My phone was already in my hand.
Rachel stopped me.
“Don’t call him.”
“Why?”
“Because if Celeste is right, we need records before he knows we’re looking.”
I stared at my brother’s name on my screen.
Then Celeste said something that made everyone forget Daniel for a moment.
“Emily, there’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Your father didn’t create the account in your name.”
I looked at Mom.
“Then who did?”
Celeste answered.
“Your grandfather.”
My mother’s father had been dead for eleven years.
“What are you talking about?”
“The original trust was his.”
Mom stood abruptly.
“That’s impossible.”
“No,” Celeste said. “Frank took control of it after he died.”
Mom’s face drained of color.
I remembered the account creation date.
Eleven years ago.
The year my grandfather died.
Celeste continued.
“The money wasn’t Frank’s to begin with.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: My Grandfather’s Trust Changed Who Owned the Hidden Millions, and Daniel Finally Admitted Why He Had Been Protecting Our Father
The Night My Father Looked at My Children and Told Me to Return to the Man Who Betrayed Us
Part 9 of 35
