Chapter 11 - The Inheritance Audit
The morning sun cast long, golden shadows across the hardwood floors of the Chestnut Street kitchen as Marisol Vega laid a thick stack of forensic financial reports across the table.
"Grant didn't just empty his joint account and fly to Nevada," Marisol said, adjusting her glasses as she slid a highlighted ledger toward me. "Before he skipped town, he liquidated three commercial real estate properties tied directly to Richard Miller’s holding company—properties that were legally designated for Diego's long-term trust."
I stared at the figures, the cold realization settling into my gut. "Richard had no idea?"
"None," Marisol replied grimly. "Grant used forged power-of-attorney signatures while Richard was recovering from his hip surgery last month. He essentially stole two million dollars from his own father to fund his escape."
Diego walked into the kitchen carrying his backpack, his fingers automatically tracing the brass compass on his zipper. He stopped when he saw the serious expressions on our faces.
"Are we in trouble, Grandpa?" he asked softly.
May you like
I knelt down, meeting his eyes at eye level. "Never, buddy. Grown-up paperwork is just being loud today. Go grab your apple slices; we're heading out to the office in a little bit."
As Diego wandered down the hall toward the pantry, Marisol leaned in closer. "Richard wants to meet us at his downtown office in an hour. He knows about the theft, and he wants to sign over full conservatorship of whatever assets he has left directly to you, Art. He’s cutting Grant completely out of his will."
