Part 2: The Missing $250,000
For a moment, Ethan couldn’t speak. His mother had hidden the letter for ten years because she believed a child would get in the way of his career and the future of Sullivan Group.
I had waited a decade to watch Ethan face the consequences of abandoning me, but seeing him learn of his mother’s betrayal brought me little satisfaction. Noah and Sophie stood beside me, taking in every painful revelation.
When Sophie quietly asked if we could go somewhere private, I agreed at once. Ethan begged for a chance to talk with them, and I allowed it only after making clear that their feelings mattered more than his reputation.
“They aren’t proof of your mistakes,” I told him. “They’re children who’ve lived ten years without you.”
In the company’s private library, Ethan finally started learning about the twins. Noah told him they were born six minutes apart on March seventeenth, while Sophie described her love of painting, horses, and mystery novels.
Ethan listened closely, smiling now and then at their playful bickering. When he admitted he regretted missing their childhood, Noah asked whether he was sorry for not knowing they existed or for losing ten years with them.
“Both,” Ethan answered quietly.
Then Margaret came in carrying a worn envelope.
It was the letter I’d written ten years earlier.
Ethan read every word, his face growing heavier as he realized I had tried to tell him the truth. When he finished, he acknowledged that he’d treated me cruelly, though I reminded him that regret couldn’t give back the years we’d lost.
Before we could leave, Martin Hale, a senior company executive, walked in with unexpected news. An archived financial record showed that $250,000 had supposedly been transferred to me shortly after our divorce.
“I never received that money,” I said.
Ethan looked just as stunned.
“I never authorized that transfer.”
Martin explained that the account had been opened with my identity documents, but its listed beneficiary was someone else.
Lucas looked over the paperwork, then slowly raised his head.
“The beneficiary was Daniel Sullivan.”
Ethan went completely still.
Daniel was his younger brother, a man who had mysteriously vanished from our lives soon after the divorce.
And suddenly the secrets surrounding my marriage seemed far bigger than either of us had imagined.
I stared at the document Lucas had set on the table, struggling to understand why Daniel Sullivan’s name appeared on a bank account opened with my identity. Daniel was Ethan’s younger brother, and though he’d always been kind to me, I hadn’t seen him since shortly before my divorce.
“That isn’t my signature,” I said, pointing to the authorization form. “Someone used my identification documents without my permission.”
Ethan leaned in and agreed immediately. The handwriting resembled mine, but several details were off, including the distinctive way I signed my surname.
Margaret dropped into a chair, visibly shaken. She insisted she had arranged the transfer because she believed the money was meant to support me after the divorce, but she had never realized the documents were fraudulent.
“Who gave you the banking instructions?” Lucas asked.
Margaret admitted she’d received the information from a man whose identity she could no longer recall. According to her, the paperwork confirmed that I’d accepted the money and wanted no further contact with the Sullivan family.
I felt sick. Someone had apparently stolen a quarter of a million dollars while manufacturing evidence that made me look like a woman who had willingly walked away from her former husband’s family.
Lucas went through the remaining records and found that the money had been sent to a private bank in Geneva. Margaret then recalled that Daniel had spent time working in Switzerland around the same period.
Ethan demanded to know why his brother had left Chicago so suddenly. Margaret reluctantly revealed that Daniel had found suspicious transactions involving the family’s charitable foundation shortly before my divorce.
He’d uncovered payments to nonexistent consultants and accounts that didn’t match the foundation’s records. Rather than look into his concerns, Margaret had waved them away because she feared another scandal would damage Ethan’s fast-growing business.
“You knew Daniel suspected fraud, and you never told me?” Ethan demanded.
“I thought I was protecting the family,” she replied.
That familiar excuse made my stomach tighten. Margaret had used the same words to justify hiding my pregnancy, withholding my letter, and letting her son believe I had disappeared by choice.
I finally cut the argument short when I noticed Noah and Sophie sitting silently beside me. They had already absorbed enough painful truths for one evening, and I refused to let an investigation into missing money overshadow their first meeting with their father.
Ethan asked if he could see them again. Noah suggested he start with a personal email, while Sophie warned him not to try winning their affection with expensive presents.
“I don’t want gifts,” she explained. “I want to know who you are.”
Ethan promised to respect their wishes, and we left through a private entrance.
The next morning, Lucas came to my apartment with more documents. He had found that the original divorce settlement included an attachment missing from the copy I’d signed.
Its title was Post-Separation Family Provision.
The document stated that if a pregnancy connected to our marriage was confirmed within twelve months of the divorce, a trust would be set up for the child or children. It covered medical expenses, education, housing, and financial support until they turned twenty-five.
Ethan’s signature was at the bottom.
I stared at the page, unable to understand why a man who had thrown thirty dollars at me would have signed an agreement promising financial protection for our future children.
Then I noticed a handwritten warning beneath the notarial stamp.
Do not let Ethan see this.
Before Lucas could say what it might mean, my phone rang.
The caller introduced herself as Hannah Reid, executive assistant to Daniel Sullivan at Northstar Advisory. She said Daniel had seen the news about the gala and wanted to meet me right away.
“Does he know about my children?” I asked.
“Yes,” Hannah answered. “He’s known for a long time.”
My heart began to pound. Daniel had apparently known about Noah and Sophie all along while Ethan had no idea they existed.
I agreed to meet him that afternoon, as long as Lucas came with me. Before hanging up, I asked whether Daniel had recently come back to Chicago.
Hannah hesitated.
“Mr. Sullivan has been in Chicago all along.”
I slowly lowered the phone.
For ten years, I’d believed Daniel was living somewhere overseas, completely cut off from the family that had cast me aside.
Now I was about to confront a man who might know exactly where my children’s missing money had gone, why their father had been kept in the dark, and who had spent a decade making sure the truth stayed buried.
