Chapter 9: What Thomas Knew
The forensic audit took six weeks.
Patricia kept me informed through brief calls every few days — not with details, but with the shape of things.
The auditors had found the accounts.
They were tracing the transfer history.
Thomas had retained his own lawyer.
The company had been placed under a temporary administrative hold.
I went back to my ordinary life as much as I could.
I took Emma to school.
I had dinner with Sarah.
I answered emails.
I did all the things a person does when they are waiting for something large to resolve itself.
My mother came to dinner twice during those six weeks.
The first time, Emma sat across from her and stared for most of the meal.
"Are you really my grandma?" Emma said, midway through the pasta.
"Yes," my mother said.
"But you were gone."
"I was."
"Why?"
My mother looked at me.
I gave her nothing — it was her answer to give.
"Because someone frightened me," she said.
"And I made a mistake.
I stayed away when I should have found a way back sooner."
Emma considered this.
"Are you staying now?"
"If your dad will let me."
Emma looked at me.
"Dad," she said.
"Let her."
Sarah made a sound that was almost a laugh.
I looked at my plate.
"We'll figure it out," I said.
The second dinner was easier.
Rachel came.
It was not warm exactly — Rachel was not there yet — but it was civil.
They spoke about small things.
The garden.
The wind chime.
A book they had both read years ago.
It was a beginning.
Patricia called on a Thursday morning.
"The audit is complete," she said.
"Thomas Marsh had full knowledge of the hidden accounts.
He discovered them approximately eight months after your father opened them — that was twenty years ago.
He was twenty-one at the time.
He told no one.
He allowed it to continue.
After your father passed, he began making transfers of his own.
Smaller amounts, more carefully structured.
He had moved approximately three hundred and forty thousand dollars in the three years since your father's death."
I sat down.
"Does Gerald know?"
"Gerald was briefed this morning by his own attorney." A pause.
"He asked me to tell you that he is proceeding with full criminal charges against Thomas.
He said — and I'm quoting him here — 'The boy made his choice twenty years ago.
I'm not going to unmake it for him.'"
I thought about Gerald's hands on the table.
The stillness in them.
"And the estate?" I said.
"That's the harder conversation," Patricia said.
"The total amount your father transferred over eleven years was two million three hundred thousand dollars.
A portion of that was recovered when he died — it was folded into the estate assets.
Based on the audit, approximately four hundred and eighty thousand dollars of what you and Rachel inherited can be traced directly to those transfers."
The number sat in the air.
"Rachel and I already discussed this," I said.
"I know.
I want to make sure you're both certain."
"We are."
"Then I'll begin the paperwork to return those funds to Gerald's claim.
It will take some time to process, but Gerald has agreed to a structured arrangement that won't require you to liquidate anything immediately."
"Thank you, Patricia."
"One more thing," she said.
"Thomas's attorney reached out this morning.
Thomas wants to speak with your mother."
I went very still.
"Why?"
"He says he has information about your father that he believes she deserves to hear.
His attorney is framing it as a gesture of good faith before the criminal proceedings begin." A pause.
"You don't have to agree to it.
Your mother doesn't have to agree to it."
"I'll ask her," I said.
I called my mother that afternoon.
She was quiet for a long time after I told her.
"What kind of information?" she said.
"We don't know yet."
Another silence.
May you like
"All right," she said.
"I'll meet with him."
