Chapter 3 - THE MONEY WAS NOT GONE
The next morning, I opened four years of bank records.
My remittances totaled $96,340.
Property taxes:
Paid.
Utilities:
Paid.
Necessary repairs:
About $18,000.
Paige’s documented medical expenses paid from the account:
$3,870.
Then came everything else.
$31,000 transferred toward Cole Performance Auto.
$9,400 down payment associated with Greg’s SUV.
Furniture.
Kitchen remodel.
Electronics.
A Caribbean vacation I had been told Susan won through a church fundraiser.
She had not.
I looked at Greg.
We were sitting in a bank conference room with my attorney, Nathan Shaw.
“You built your shop with my money.”
Greg crossed his arms.
“Family money.”
“My wages.”
“You were gone.”
“That doesn't change ownership.”
“You told Mom to take care of everybody.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“I told her to take care of the house and Paige.”
Greg laughed.
“Paige was bleeding you dry.”
“What did she spend?”
He looked toward Susan.
Susan answered:
“Cash disappeared.”
“How much?”
“Thousands.”
“Records?”
“Not everything leaves a record.”
Nathan interrupted.
“Then we need specifics.”
Susan hated him immediately.
Good.
Then I asked about the million-dollar settlement.
Nathan already knew the truth.
The gross settlement was $1 million Canadian equivalent before legal fees, medical liens, taxes where applicable, and structured components.
I had not received a million dollars into checking.
Most remained controlled through settlement processing.
I had deliberately told my family only the headline number.
Not to entrap them legally.
To see what happened.
Something happened quickly.
Susan said:
“You should put it in the family account.”
Greg said:
“My shop could triple with two hundred grand.”
Neither mentioned Paige.
I asked:
“What does my wife need?”
Silence.
Then Susan said:
“She already cost enough.”
Nathan looked at me.
I didn't react.
Susan continued voluntarily.
“We spent years covering her mistakes.”
“What mistakes?”
“She takes things.”
“The necklace?”
Her hand moved to it again.
“She gave that to me.”
Paige had already told me otherwise.
Then Greg said:
“She stole twenty-six thousand dollars.”
That was the first precise accusation.
Nathan wrote it down.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“From where?”
“The household account.”
“Evidence?”
Greg smiled.
“We have plenty.”
May you like
That was when I realized they had not invented the theft story after I came home.
They had built it before.
