Chapter 3 - The Reconstruction of Betrayal
I didn't stay in the mansion that night. I refused to let Sarah and Jamie spend another minute under the roof that had become their prison. I packed their meager belongings into the back of my truck and drove straight to the luxury hotel downtown, checking us into a secure suite.
I ordered a massive room-service spread of fresh fruit, warm chicken broth, and roasted potatoes. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching with a breaking heart as Jamie ate real, fresh food with a look of pure wonder on his face. Sarah sat beside him, wrapped in a plush hotel bathrobe, her hand gripping mine so tightly her knuckles were white.
"How did it get this bad, Sarah?" I asked softly, rubbing her hand.
"It started six months after you left," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Gertrude told me that the money you were sending was barely enough to cover the property taxes. She said if I didn't hand over complete legal control of the estate's finances to her, the bank would foreclose and you'd be ruined. I trusted her because she was your mother."
Sarah took a deep breath, shuddering. "Once she had control, she cut off my allowance. Then Prudence moved in. They started hosting these massive parties, using your money to buy designer clothes, sports cars, and expensive vacations. When I complained, they moved me and Jamie to the service quarters. They told the neighbors I was an ungrateful maid they kept out of charity."
The next morning, while Sarah and Jamie were finally sleeping peacefully in the plush bed, I booted up my laptop and dialed Marcus Sterling. Marcus was a legendary forensic accountant and corporate attorney who had helped my construction firm structure our international contracts.
"Arthur," Marcus answered, his voice alert. "I saw your message. You sound terrible. What's going on?"
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"I need you to run a complete, aggressive financial audit on every single dollar I transferred from Saudi Arabia over the last five years," I said, my jaw tightly clenched. "My mother and sister intercepted the funds. They hijacked the estate. I want to know exactly where every cent went, whose names are on the secondary accounts, and how they managed to bypass my personal signatures."
"Give me forty-eight hours," Marcus said grimly. "If they committed bank fraud or identity theft to move those funds, we won't just get your money back, Arthur. We're going to put them in a federal cage."
