Chapter 5: What Douglas Reeve Knew
Miriam had a contact at the Delaware Secretary of State's office who owed her a favor.
By Monday morning, she had the full corporate history of Carver Holdings LLC, including every amendment, every registered agent change, and one document that neither of us had expected.
A second member had been added to the LLC two years after it was formed.
The name was Patricia Weston.
I looked at Miriam across the desk.
"Who is Patricia Weston?"
"I didn't know either," she said.
"So I looked." She opened a folder.
"Patricia Weston is Douglas Reeve's sister.
She's also a licensed real estate agent based in the same county where your family lives.
She has handled several transactions in your area over the past six years."
Something shifted in my chest.
"The house," I said.
"Lena's house.
Was Patricia Weston the listing agent?"
Miriam turned the folder around so I could see the printout.
Patricia Weston.
Weston Realty Group.
Listed as the seller's agent on the purchase agreement Dad had signed.
"He was going to buy a house through a company he was secretly invested in," I said.
"Using my money.
And the commission would have gone back to the same LLC."
"The commission on a $1.4 million sale is typically between two and three percent on the seller's side," Miriam said.
"That's between twenty-eight and forty-two thousand dollars.
Going directly into an account your father had a financial interest in."
"That's fraud."
"It's a significant conflict of interest at minimum.
Depending on how the arrangement was structured, it could support a fraud claim, yes."
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Dad.
"He's called six times since Saturday," I said.
"Don't answer.
Not yet."
I set the phone face-down.
"There's one more thing," Miriam said.
She pulled a single sheet from the back of the folder.
"I requested the transaction records from Douglas Reeve's end through a civil discovery preliminary inquiry.
His attorney pushed back, which tells us something.
But before they shut it down, we received one page."
She placed it in front of me.
It was a wire confirmation.
Dated three years ago.
From Carver Holdings to a personal account.
The personal account belonged to my father.
The amount was $180,000.
"He wasn't just sending money to Douglas," I said.
"Douglas was sending money back."
"A return on investment, his attorney will likely argue.
But the timing is notable.
That wire arrived eleven days after your father transferred $210,000 out of your inheritance account."
I sat with that for a moment.
The math was simple.
Dad had moved $210,000 of my money into Carver Holdings and received $180,000 back personally eleven days later.
Whatever the remaining $30,000 was for, the structure was clear.
He had been using my inheritance as a personal funding vehicle.
Moving money out, taking a cut, and letting the rest sit in a company he and Douglas controlled together.
"He's going to say it was all above board," I said.
"He's going to try.
But we now have the wire confirmation, the LLC membership records, the transaction history from the estate file, and the connection to the listing agent on the house purchase.
Taken together, that is not a story that holds up easily."
My phone buzzed again.
Not a call this time.
A text from Lena.
*Dad hired an attorney.
He says you're making accusations you can't prove and that if you file anything, he'll countersue for defamation.
He says to think about what this does to Mom.*
I read it twice.
Then I set the phone down and looked at Miriam.
"He's threatening me through Lena."
"Yes."
"That means he's scared."
"Yes," she said again.
"It does."
I thought about my mother's face on Friday night.
The sound she had made when Dad's hand came up.
The way she had reached for the back of the chair.
"What does this do to Mom?" I asked quietly.
Miriam was careful with her answer.
"That depends on what she knew and when she knew it.
At this stage, there's no evidence she was involved in the financial arrangements.
But she benefited from them.
The family lifestyle, the vacations, Lena's college, the business funding — all of it was partially supported by money that came from your account."
"She didn't know," I said.
"I don't think she knew."
"You may be right.
But she's going to have to reckon with it either way."
I looked at the wire confirmation on the desk in front of me.
$180,000.
Sent to my father.
Eleven days after he moved my money.
Grandfather had been gone for four years.
He had trusted his son to protect what he'd left for me.
He had put it in writing, with an attorney, with documents, because he had believed in legal protections.
He had been right to.
May you like
"File the civil claim," I said.
Miriam nodded once and reached for her pen.
