Chapter 8: The Brother Who Wasn't Supposed to Be There
I didn't sleep that night.
I sat in the nursery chair with Lily against my chest, staring at the bank statement Evelyn had printed.
James Bennett.
My older brother.
He had died in a car accident six years earlier.
He had been thirty-five.
He had loved motorcycles, terrible coffee, and making me laugh when I was trying not to cry.
He had also been my father's closest business confidant.
The statement showed an account in his name.
Opening date: two years ago.
Balance: $3.2 million.
I read the dates again.
Two years ago.
Four years after James died.
"That's impossible," I whispered.
Evelyn sat across from me.
"Someone may have opened the account using his identity.""
"But why?""
"That's what we need to establish.""
I looked at the transaction history.
There were deposits from Carter Development.
Payments from Reed Holdings.
And a final transfer from an account connected to the Bennett Family Trust.
The total exceeded three million dollars.
"Could Daniel have used James's identity to hide money?""
"Possibly.""
"But James's death certificate would have made that difficult.""
"Unless the account was opened using forged identification or a false corporate record.""
I looked at her.
"Could someone have pretended he was alive?""
Evelyn didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she picked up her phone.
"I want the original bank application.""
At 8:30 a.m., she contacted the bank's legal department.
By ten, they had agreed to preserve the account and provide the relevant documents through the proper legal process.
At eleven, Michael called.
He had found something.
"The account wasn't opened by Daniel.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"Then who?""
"An individual named Peter Lawson.""
I frowned.
"Who is that?""
"Former financial adviser to Richard Bennett.""
I looked at Evelyn.
She went still.
"Peter Lawson worked for my father?""
"Yes," Michael replied.
"He was involved in several international property investments.""
I remembered the name.
Peter had attended family dinners when I was younger.
He had always worn expensive watches and spoken in a low, reassuring voice.
My father had eventually dismissed him after a disagreement over an investment.
That had happened shortly before James died.
"Can you find him?"" Evelyn asked.
Michael typed.
"He's currently listed as a consultant for Carter Development.""
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Daniel hadn't simply discovered my father's money.
He had found the people who knew how to move it.
Evelyn asked Michael to continue.
A few minutes later, he found the account application.
It contained James's name, date of birth, and old identification details.
But the photograph was different.
It showed a man in his forties.
Dark hair.
A narrow face.
A scar above the right eyebrow.
I stared at it.
"That's not James.""
Evelyn enlarged the photograph.
"No.""
I leaned closer.
I knew that face.
I had seen it before.
Not in a photograph.
In person.
"That's Peter Lawson.""
Michael nodded.
"That's what our preliminary facial comparison suggests.""
I sat back.
The account had been opened using James's identity but Peter's photograph.
Someone had created a false identity using my dead brother's name.
"Why would Daniel need to do that?""
Evelyn looked at the bank statement.
"Because a deceased person's identity can be useful in concealing the true ownership of financial assets. Especially if the person had legitimate connections to the family business.""
I swallowed.
"So my brother's name became a hiding place.""
"That's one possibility.""
Then Evelyn's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
And slowly stood.
"What happened?"" I asked when she ended the call.
"The bank has identified a second account.""
"Whose name?""
"Richard Bennett.""
My father.
I felt the room go cold.
"He's dead too.""
"Yes.""
The account had been opened five months earlier.
It contained $7.6 million.
The funds had originated from several property transactions and company dividends.
I stared at the number.
Almost eight million dollars.
Money connected to my father's estate.
Money that should have been accounted for.
Evelyn sat down.
"Your father may have suspected this was possible.""
She reached into her briefcase and removed the original letter from the sealed envelope.
"Remember the line about the property account?""
I nodded.
"There's another document attached to the back.""
She unfolded a thin sheet of paper.
It was a list of names and account references.
Three names appeared.
Richard Bennett.
James Bennett.
Mara Bennett.
Beside my name was a handwritten note.
If all three identities appear in financial records after my death, investigate the person who has access to the original identity documents.
I looked at Evelyn.
"Who had access?""
She didn't answer.
I already knew.
Daniel had been living in my father's house during the final months of his illness.
He had helped arrange paperwork.
He had attended meetings.
He had been trusted.
But there was another person.
Someone who had been close to my family long before Daniel.
I looked at the note again.
"Peter Lawson.""
Evelyn nodded.
"And possibly someone inside Carter Development.""
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You need to stop asking questions about the accounts.
I showed Evelyn.
She immediately photographed it.
Another message arrived.
Your father made mistakes. Don't repeat them.
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
"Who is this?""
Evelyn replied carefully.
"Don't answer.""
A third message appeared.
Ask your husband what happened to James's original insurance policy.
I stopped breathing.
James's insurance policy.
I remembered the accident.
The police had said his motorcycle had crossed the center line during a storm.
The insurance company had paid out a substantial settlement.
My father had handled the paperwork.
Daniel had helped him.
I looked at Evelyn.
"Could someone have stolen the insurance money?""
"Possibly. We need the original policy and payment records.""
I stood.
"My father told me James's insurance money went into a family trust.""
Evelyn nodded.
"Then we'll trace it.""
She opened her laptop.
Within minutes, she found a record.
The insurance settlement had been paid into a trust account.
That account had later transferred money into a holding company.
And the holding company had made an investment in Carter Development.
I stared at the screen.
James's death had helped finance Daniel's company.
I felt sick.
"Was my father involved?""
Evelyn shook her head.
"We don't know yet.""
She opened the original transaction documents.
There were two signatures.
My father's.
And Peter Lawson's.
The document had been signed three months before my father died.
I read the final clause.
Upon the death of the beneficiary, the funds shall remain protected for the benefit of surviving family members.
My father had tried to protect the money.
Someone had moved it anyway.
Then Michael called again.
This time, he sounded alarmed.
"I've found the person who authorized the transfers from the Richard Bennett account.""
"Who?""
"Daniel Carter.""
"Can you prove it?""
"Yes. But there's something else.""
"What?""
"The account has been used to pay a monthly amount to a private investigator.""
I frowned.
"Who was the investigator watching?""
Michael read the name.
"Mara Bennett.""
I stared at him.
"What?""
"The payments began six months ago. The investigator was hired to monitor your movements, financial activities, and communications.""
Evelyn slowly closed her laptop.
"Six months ago," she repeated.
I nodded.
I had been pregnant.
Daniel had been watching me while pretending to be my husband.
"Why would he hire someone to follow me?""
Michael hesitated.
"Because he may have been trying to determine whether you had discovered the trust arrangements.""
I felt a cold wave move through me.
Then he added:
"There's a final report in the file. It contains a photograph taken outside your father's old house.""
Evelyn opened the attachment.
The photograph showed the front entrance.
Taken at night.
A man stood near the gate.
I recognized him immediately.
Daniel.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood Peter Lawson.
And between them was a third person.
A woman.
May you like
A woman I had not seen in six years.
My mother.
