Chapter 12 - BIANCA'S PRICE
My father contacted Bianca before we did.
He offered her five million dollars to withdraw the annulment.
She recorded the call.
“I thought you considered me a gold digger.”
Bianca said.
My father replied.
“I consider you practical.”
“What do you want?”
“Stay married to Preston.”
“Why?”
“Because marriages survive difficult beginnings.”
Bianca laughed.
“Your son framed a child and nearly put her in the hospital.”
“He made one mistake.”
“I’m beginning to understand where he learned that sentence.”
Then my father offered the money.
Bianca refused.
Not because she suddenly became heroic.
Because she finally understood staying married could make her legally tied to fraudulent assets.
She turned over every document Preston had ever asked her to sign.
Among them was an agreement transferring hotel properties into a marital trust.
Her attorney said.
“If she had signed after the wedding, Preston could have moved approximately eighty million dollars beyond normal board oversight.”
I stared.
“My parents were stealing from their own company.”
Thomas corrected me.
“They believed the company belonged to them.”
That was worse.
Meanwhile, Sophie returned to school.
I was terrified.
She was excited.
Before entering, she stopped.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“What if people think I stole Uncle Preston’s phone?”
“Some might.”
“But there’s a video.”
“Yes.”
“So they’re wrong.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
She shrugged.
“Okay.”
Then she ran toward her teacher.
Eight years old.
Already understanding something I had needed thirty-five years to learn.
Someone believing a lie about you does not make it true.
That afternoon, Preston’s attorney requested a meeting.
I almost refused.
Then I agreed through lawyers.
Preston appeared on a video screen.
His face had changed.
Less polished.
More angry.
“You’ve destroyed everything.”
I stared.
“You hit Sophie.”
“You’re still using that?”
I actually laughed.
“Using it?”
“It happened once.”
“That sentence alone tells me this conversation is over.”
“Wait.”
He leaned toward the camera.
“Dad set this up.”
“I know.”
“He pressured me.”
“I know.”
“He said if you got the shares, I’d lose everything.”
“You were thirty-two years old.”
“You made your own decision.”
His eyes hardened.
“You always hated me.”
“No.”
That surprised both of us.
“I hated what Mom and Dad allowed you to become.”
“But I still spent years wishing you would act like my brother.”
For a second, his anger disappeared.
Then returned.
“You think Sophie is innocent?”
My chest tightened.
“Careful.”
He smiled.
“That perfect little girl found something at Grandpa’s house before he died.”
“What?”
“A key.”
I stared.
“What key?”
“Ask her.”
The screen went dark.
That evening, I sat beside Sophie on her bed.
“Sweetheart.”
“Do you remember Great-Grandpa?”
“A little.”
“Did he ever give you a key?”
She immediately nodded.
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is it?”
May you like
Sophie pointed toward her jewelry box.
“He told me not to give it to Grandma.”
