Chapter 4: The Money Disappeared at My Husband's Funeral
"Someone withdrew the entire balance on the day of Edward's funeral.""
Michael's words hung in the study.
I gripped the edge of Edward's desk.
"That isn't possible. I was with Nathan all day. We buried his father together.""
Michael nodded.
"That's precisely why I wanted to check the authorization.""
Nathan was staring at the laptop.
"Who withdrew it?""
Michael turned the screen toward us.
A transaction record appeared.
The withdrawal had been authorized through a digital account linked to the trust. The funds had been transferred through three separate financial institutions before reaching a private investment company.
Then Michael opened the authorization document.
My stomach tightened.
There were two signatures.
One belonged to Edward.
The other belonged to someone who had apparently been granted temporary administrative authority.
Harlow Bellmont.
Nathan looked up sharply.
"My wife?""
Michael nodded.
"According to these records, she had access to the trust's administrative portal.""
"That's impossible!"" Nathan said.
"Why would Dad give her access?""
"He didn't," I whispered.
I remembered Edward's final months.
He had become increasingly protective of his financial documents. He had changed passwords, installed additional security cameras, and asked Michael to review several accounts.
He had even warned me not to let anyone handle his estate paperwork without supervision.
At the time, I thought it was simply an elderly man's caution.
Now I understood.
Michael pointed to another line.
"There's something else. The administrative authority was granted using a power of attorney.""
I stared at him.
"Whose power of attorney?""
"Yours.""
My knees nearly buckled.
I had never given Harlow power of attorney.
Nathan stood.
"You're saying she forged Mom's signature?""
"I'm saying the document appears to authorize her to act on Corinthia's behalf. We need to establish how it was obtained.""
I looked toward the doorway.
Harlow was gone.
"Where is she?""
Nathan checked his phone.
"She went upstairs.""
Michael immediately closed the laptop.
"Nobody should confront her alone. We need to preserve everything.""
But Nathan was already moving.
I followed him upstairs.
We found Harlow in our guest bedroom, stuffing clothes into a large designer suitcase.
Her jewelry box sat open on the bed.
Nathan stopped in the doorway.
"What are you doing?""
She froze.
Then she slowly turned.
"Packing.""
"Why?""
"Because I'm not staying somewhere I'm being treated like a criminal.""
Nathan stared at the suitcase.
"Did you withdraw the trust money?""
Harlow laughed.
"Don't be ridiculous.""
"Did you?""
She zipped the suitcase.
"Your mother is manipulating you.""
I stepped forward.
"Then explain why your name appears on the withdrawal authorization.""
Harlow looked at me.
For the first time, there was no performance in her expression.
Just contempt.
"Edward was going to leave everything to Nathan anyway. I was protecting my husband's future.""
"By stealing his inheritance?""
"Don't use that word!""
Nathan moved closer.
"Where is the money, Harlow?""
She grabbed his arm.
"Listen to me. We have a life. We have bills.
We have plans. Your father was a wealthy man who kept everything locked away while we struggled.""
I stared at her.
"You bought a new Mercedes last month.""
Her jaw tightened.
"That was none of your business.""
"And the penthouse in Los Angeles?""
Silence.
Nathan slowly turned.
"What penthouse?""
Harlow looked away.
I remembered something Edward had told me before his death.
He had discovered a suspicious property purchase connected to an offshore company. At the time, he hadn't told me the details because he was afraid I would become involved.
Now the pieces were coming together.
Michael appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Mrs. Bellmont, please come downstairs. We need to discuss the documents.""
Harlow grabbed her purse.
"I'm leaving.""
Michael didn't block her.
But he held up a sheet of paper.
"Before you do, perhaps you'd like to explain this.""
It was a photograph of a storage facility.
A private wine warehouse in Napa Valley.
The photograph showed thirteen wooden crates being loaded into a refrigerated truck.
The driver was the same man standing beside Harlow in the bank photograph.
Nathan stared at the image.
"That's Edward's collection.""
Michael nodded.
"According to the warehouse records, the bottles were removed two months ago.""
I looked at Harlow.
"Where did you take my husband's wine?""
She laughed bitterly.
"You're never going to understand.""
"Try me.""
She stepped toward me.
"Your husband was not the saint you think he was. He hid money. He manipulated everyone. He made promises he never intended to keep.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"Edward trusted you.""
"No," she snapped.
"Edward trusted nobody.""
Then she reached into her purse and removed a folded document.
She threw it onto the bed.
"Read that. Maybe you'll finally understand why your precious husband was so desperate to keep me away from his money.""
Michael picked it up.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then he looked at me.
"Corinthia, this is a signed agreement between Edward and Harlow.""
I took the document.
The heading read:
*PRIVATE BENEFICIARY AGREEMENT.*
And beneath it was a clause that made my blood run cold.
May you like
Edward had promised Harlow a substantial financial payment if she fulfilled one specific condition.
A condition that had never been disclosed to me.
