Chapter 5 - The Third Transfer
"Gertrude witnessed my signature," I said. "On a day I wasn't even in Delaware."
"It's worse," Daniel replied. "The document was electronically uploaded from a network associated with your home."
I hadn't worked from that computer in six months.
At nine, the Delaware trustee, Renee Whitcomb, joined our call. She sounded exhausted and careful, the way good professionals sound when they realize an error may have become a disaster.
"There were three transfers," she told me. "One million two hundred thousand, then nine hundred thousand, then another nine hundred thousand."
"All to Bellwether?"
"Yes. From a liquidity account associated with the trust. We have suspended further disbursements pending review."
"How did my husband obtain authorization?"
"He submitted a limited advisory certificate we accepted as valid. We're investigating the chain of approval."
"And my father's safeguards?"
Renee hesitated. "Your father imposed an unusual condition. It matters if anyone seeks to declare you unable to manage your affairs. Until that happens, the ordinary trust procedures apply."
I remembered the folder Gertrude had held to the kitchen glass. They weren't merely trying to get a signature. They were building a record that I needed a guardian.
"Has anyone filed anything about my capacity?"
"Not with us," Renee said. "But we received an inquiry yesterday from counsel for your husband."
Marisol set a cup of coffee in front of me. I couldn't lift it. A family I had loved was trying to turn my grief into proof that I couldn't be trusted with my own name.
"I need everything preserved," I said. "The original uploads, access logs, approval emails, all of it."
"We've issued a preservation hold," Renee replied.
My phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. It contained a single photograph: the camera mounted above my refrigerator, its light shining red in the dark.
May you like
Underneath were six words.
I installed it. I kept copies.
