Forged.
Not misunderstood.
Not borrowed.
Not complicated.
Forged.
“We believe your mother created a shell mailing address and diverted official correspondence,” Priya continued. “The investment firm changed systems recently. That triggered a verification process. Thomas was contacted because he remained listed as a backup trustee.”
“What’s left?” I asked.
Priya hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“Roughly $72,000 in trust assets remain traceable at first glance.”
I stared at her.
“From four hundred thousand?”
“More likely over a million, had it remained properly invested.”
I turned my face toward the window.
A million dollars.
Not greed. Not luxury.
Time.
Rest.
Choice.
The ability to say no without checking my balance first.
My mother had not just taken money.
She had taken every version of me that might have existed if I hadn’t been exhausted.
Priya gave me a moment before continuing.
“There are also recent transfers from an account in your name that appear suspicious.”
“The emergency account,” I said.
“Your mother withdrew nearly all of it four days ago.”
“How much?”
“Seventeen thousand eight hundred and forty-six dollars.”
Bahamas.
Rooms.
Cocktails.
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