Chapter 4 - What Dad Knew
My father died of a heart attack in his office.
For three years, I believed his final week had been ordinary.
It hadn’t.
Noah spread copies of bank records across the table.
The first Westbridge payment happened while Dad was still alive.
$90,000.
Then $140,000.
Then $210,000.
Dad had signed the first two.
After that, his signature changed.
Tiny differences.
Wrong angle on the H.
Shorter tail on the R.
Noah had hired a document examiner.
“The later approvals are probably copied signatures,” he said.
Mom shook her head.
“Your father knew.”
“Then why did he write ‘stop moving money’?”
“He changed his mind.”
“About stealing?”
Her face hardened.
“About surviving.”
She told us Harper Community Properties had been close to collapse during Dad’s last year. Two apartment renovations ran over budget. A lender pulled out. Dad moved money through Westbridge to cover emergency costs without alarming investors.
“That matches part of the audit.”
Mom looked relieved.
Then he continued.
“It does not explain $1.6 million after Thomas died.”
Relief vanished.
She whispered, “I kept things going.”
“With fake approvals in my name?” I asked.
“I was protecting what he built.”
“By forging me?”
“I signed things the way he would have wanted.”
“That sentence doesn’t even make sense.”
“You weren’t there, Claire. You were grieving. You wanted nothing to do with the company. Noah was new. Somebody had to keep the doors open.”
Noah said quietly, “Some of the money never came back to the company.”
I looked at him.
“Where did it go?”
“House payments. Private investment accounts. A condo in Florida.”
I stared at Diane.
She looked smaller.
Then the lights went out.
The kitchen dropped into darkness.
Glass broke in Noah’s office down the hall.
We heard footsteps.
Noah grabbed my arm.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
We reached the office together.
The window was open.
The desk drawers had been pulled out.
The laptop was gone.
So was the folder containing Noah’s original audit notes.
Mom stood behind us.
Her face had gone white.
“No,” she whispered.
I turned.
“What?”
May you like
She looked at the open window.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen tonight.”
