Chapter 7 - THE MONEY THAT NEVER BELONGED TO HIM
Simone stared at the beneficiary designation.
Gregory Mitchell.
The account had been opened when he was twenty-one.
The dates were unmistakable.
But his name alone did not explain who controlled the money.
“Was Gregory aware of this account?” she asked.
Peter shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why would Charles use him?”
Peter sat heavily.
“Martin was afraid of Charles. After the business collapsed, he agreed to things he should never have agreed to.”
“What things?”
“Charles moved money through accounts connected to Martin's family. He said it was temporary.”
Simone looked again at the statement.
“Did Martin know where the money came from?”
“I think he suspected.”
Peter's voice grew bitter.
“Charles always found somebody desperate enough to carry the risk.”
Simone had spent years examining companies, identifying financial weaknesses, and deciding which businesses deserved a second chance.
She knew the difference between a mistake and a pattern.
Charles Voss was beginning to look like a pattern.
But she also knew an old statement was not proof of current ownership.
“May I have a copy?”
Peter nodded.
“That's why I kept it.”
He hesitated.
“Miss Ellis?”
“Simone, please.”
“Don't punish my daughter for being angry about things she didn't understand.”
Simone studied him.
“Britney attempted to access my assets using my identity.”
Peter closed his eyes.
“I was afraid of that.”
“You knew?”
“I knew she'd been talking to Charles.”
“How long?”
“Since last winter.”
Simone felt her stomach tighten.
Peter continued.
“He told her your family had stolen an inheritance from mine.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Britney?”
“Over and over.”
He looked toward the photograph of his daughter.
“She thought I was protecting people who'd treated us badly. She couldn't understand that sometimes a man helps you without expecting anything back.”
Simone stood.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Peter reached for her hand.
“Your father made me promise something.”
“What?”
“That I wouldn't let his daughter inherit a fight that belonged to our generation.”
Simone looked at him.
“Then Charles picked the wrong daughter.”
Back in Chicago, Rebecca examined the statement.
Margaret traced the account number through archived settlement records.
After several hours, they found a match.
The account had not been a personal savings account.
It was a temporary custodial account created during the dissolution of Martin's transportation company.
Gregory had been listed as a contingent beneficiary.
The money itself had been subject to unresolved claims involving Charles Voss.
“Could Gregory legally receive it?” Simone asked.
“Not automatically,” Rebecca answered. “The account appears to have been closed decades ago after a court-supervised distribution.”
“Then why does Charles want him involved now?”
Margaret brought up the Northbridge financing chart.
“Because Gregory's name gives him a story.”
Simone frowned.
“What story?”
“A supposed historical entitlement. If Charles could establish that Gregory was owed assets arising from the old Ellis settlement, he could use that dispute to pressure your firm during the acquisition.”
Rebecca nodded.
“And a forged trust authorization would make the claim look much stronger.”
Simone understood.
Charles had never needed Gregory to be powerful.
He needed Gregory to believe he was entitled to power.
The twelve-million-dollar success fee was bait.
Britney's grievance was leverage.
And Simone's marriage gave Charles proximity he could never have purchased openly.
She felt sick.
“Where is Britney now?”
Rebecca checked the latest information from Gregory's counsel.
“She has taken leave from Halston.”
“Has Charles contacted her?”
“We don't know.”
Simone looked at Margaret.
“Then let's stop guessing and give the independent investigators everything we have.”
That afternoon, Gregory met Britney in a small coffee shop far from downtown.
He arrived carrying the cream-colored letter.
Britney looked exhausted.
Her carefully styled hair was tied back.
No jewelry.
No expensive handbag.
For the first time, Gregory saw the woman beneath the polished confidence that had attracted him.
“Did you know about the account?” he asked.
She looked up.
“What account?”
He placed a copy of the old statement on the table.
Britney read it.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Simone's attorney provided it through my counsel.”
Britney stared at the beneficiary line.
“Charles told me the money belonged to my father.”
Gregory sat down.
“He lied.”
Britney shook her head.
“He said Daniel Ellis moved assets into the Mitchell family to keep them away from workers.”
“That's not what happened.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Peter told Simone the truth.”
Britney stopped breathing.
“My father spoke to Simone?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled with anger.
“He had no right.”
Gregory looked at her.
“He had every right. It's his life.”
Britney pressed her hands against her face.
“I spent years watching my parents struggle.”
“I know.”
“No, Greg. You don't.”
She lowered her hands.
“My mother wore the same winter coat for twelve years. My father worked overtime until his knees gave out. Then I got a job handling financial records and saw how easily wealthy people protected themselves.”
Gregory listened.
For once, he did not interrupt.
“When Charles contacted me,” she continued, “he knew everything about my family. He said there was evidence we'd been cheated.”
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
Gregory looked down.
“Did you forge Simone's signature?”
Britney began crying.
Not dramatically.
Not to win sympathy.
As though she had finally exhausted every argument available to her.
“I uploaded the form.”
He closed his eyes.
“Britney.”
“But I didn't create the signature. Charles's consultant sent me a completed packet. I told myself it was an authorization Simone had already approved.”
“You knew she hadn't.”
Britney did not answer.
Gregory pushed back his chair.
“Why did you involve me?”
“Because Charles said your consent was required.”
“You let me approve something that could have destroyed my wife.”
Britney looked at him.
“You let me into her bedroom.”
The words landed hard.
She wiped her face.
“We both made choices, Greg. Don't pretend you only started making yours when the money appeared.”
He sat motionless.
She was right about one thing.
He had betrayed Simone before Charles's scheme became visible.
That part belonged entirely to him.
Britney opened her purse.
“I kept something.”
She removed a small black flash drive.
“Charles told me to delete the working files once the authorization was accepted. I couldn't.”
“What's on it?”
“Drafts. Messages. Instructions.”
“Have you given them to investigators?”
“Not yet.”
Gregory reached toward the drive.
Britney closed her fist.
“I'm not giving this to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you spent eight years letting Simone protect you from consequences. I won't let you do the same to me.”
She stood.
“I'm going to turn it over myself.”
The following morning, Britney appeared with her attorney before the independent investigation team appointed by Northbridge and Ellis Meridian.
She surrendered the flash drive.
A forensic specialist verified the files.
Among them were draft agreements, payment schedules, and messages attributed to Charles Voss.
But one document stunned everyone.
It was a proposed post-closing distribution schedule.
The twelve-million-dollar payment promised to Gregory was divided into three parts.
Four million for Gregory.
Three million for Britney.
Five million for an entity controlled by Charles.
And underneath was a separate line:
Additional equity transfer upon successful amendment of Ellis Family Trust control provisions.
Simone studied the record.
This was not merely a disputed inheritance claim.
Charles had been attempting to use the acquisition to reach her family's trust structure.
Then the investigator opened the final attachment.
A list of planned disclosures intended to pressure Simone into approving the changes.
At the top was a photograph of Simone and Gregory on their wedding day.
Beneath it was a caption.
MITCHELL MARRIAGE — ORIGINAL STRATEGIC INTRODUCTION.
Simone looked at Gregory, who had been summoned to answer questions.
“What does that mean?”
Gregory stared at the photograph.
Then his eyes moved to the date.
Three months before their first meeting.
May you like
His face went white.
“Simone,” he whispered, “I didn't meet you by accident.”
