by your company?”
For the first time, she hesitated.
Derek turned toward her.
“What company?”
The question landed harder than anything Harrison had said.
I watched Monica’s expression change.
It was small.
A tightening around the mouth.
A quick glance toward the door.
Derek looked from her to me.
“What is he talking about?”
I answered quietly.
“The $2.5 million I gave you for renovations was transferred into a company controlled by Monica.
That company bought your Austin house for $2.4 million in cash.”
He stared at me.
Then at his wife.
“You said we bought it together.”
Monica’s eyes hardened.
“We did.”
“Is my name on it?”
She did not answer.
The silence did it for her.
Derek stood so abruptly that his chair rolled backward.
“Is my name on the house?”
“Sit down,” Monica said.
“Answer me.”
“This is not the place.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
For eight months, they had used my kitchen, my grief, my future grandchild, and my trust as the setting for their lies.
Now Monica wanted privacy.
Harrison slid a copy of the deed across the table.
Derek picked it up.
His eyes moved down the page until they reached the ownership line.
Monica’s company.
Sole owner.
He looked at her as if he had never seen her before.
“You told me it was temporary.”
That sentence told us there had been another layer to the plan.
Evelyn folded her hands.
“Mr.
Lawson, I need to ask you directly.
Did you know your father had given you funds for renovations?”
Derek looked at the deed.
“Yes.”
“Did you know those funds were used to purchase the Austin property?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Did your father know?”
He said nothing.
Evelyn repeated the question.
“Did your father know?”
“No.”
The word barely reached the end of the table.
That was the first honest thing my son had said all morning.
Harrison then asked the question I had been dreading.
“Did you remove documents from your father’s safe?”
Derek’s head snapped up.
“No.”
Monica spoke at the same time.
“Absolutely not.”
Too fast.
Harrison looked at me.
I took out my phone.
A week earlier, after discovering the missing files, I had asked the security company that maintained my home system to preserve access logs and internal camera footage.
I did not have a camera inside the study.
Diane had hated the idea of turning our home into a surveillance box.
But there was a camera in the hallway.
Harrison had reviewed the footage that morning.
He placed a tablet on the table and pressed play.
The video showed Monica walking into my study carrying nothing.
Nine minutes later, she walked out holding a large canvas tote she had not brought in.
Derek arrived at the house twenty minutes after that.
He did not enter the study, but the camera showed Monica handing him a thick folder beside the back door.
The video ended.
Derek closed his eyes.
Monica stared at the blank screen.
“That proves nothing,” she said.
“Then perhaps the bank’s copy of the altered authorization will,” Harrison replied.
Derek turned on him.
“I didn’t change the document.”
“Did you submit it?”
He hesitated.
“I sent what Monica gave me.”
Monica laughed once, without humor.
“Of course.
Here it comes.”
“You told
