Chapter 4 - The Paper Trail of Blood
The accusation hit me like a physical blow. "Unemployed?! I was unemployed because Evan forced me to quit my job at the bank three years ago!"
"I know, Lena," Claire said gently, placing a hand over mine. "And that is precisely why we are going to make them regret ever opening this legal battle."
Claire pulled up a series of financial spreadsheets on her laptop.
"When Evan was arrested," Claire explained, "the police seized his personal phone and laptop as evidence. Because I filed a formal discovery motion in family court, his legal team was forced to hand over his digital records from the past three years."
"What did you find?" my father asked, stepping up to the table, his eyes narrowing.
"Evan wasn't just abusing Lena," Claire revealed, turning the screen toward us. "He was systematically draining her late mother's inheritance trust."
My eyes widened in utter shock. "My mother's trust? But... but Dad told me that money was locked in a restricted annuity until I turned thirty-five!"
"It was supposed to be," Claire said grimly. "But three years ago, Evan forged your signature on a series of power-of-attorney documents with the help of a corrupt notary public who works for his father’s real estate firm. He transferred over three hundred and forty thousand dollars out of your mother’s legacy account into an offshore shell account registered in Nevada."
My father stood frozen. The color drained from his face, replaced by a terrifying, dark crimson flush of pure military fury.
"He stole my wife's legacy to my daughter?" Dad's voice was dangerously low, a whisper that carried more threat than a scream.
"He used that money to buy his sports car, pay off his secret gambling debts at the casino in Ilwaco, and finance his defense attorney," Claire stated. "This isn't just a domestic violence case anymore, Uncle Thomas. This is grand larceny, forgery, wire fraud, and federal money laundering."
"Can we prove it?" I asked, my heart hammering against my broken ribs.
"We don't just have the paper trail," Claire smiled—a cold, sharp, predatory expression. "We have the notary public. I paid her a visit yesterday afternoon with a federal investigator. The moment she realized she was facing ten years in state prison for notarizing forged signatures, she gave us a full recorded confession detailing how Evan and his father paid her ten thousand dollars in cash to sign those documents."
Dad looked over at Noah, who was sitting on the living room rug, happily playing with the golden retrievers, entirely unaware of the war raging around him.
"They thought they were dealing with an isolated woman who had no resources," Dad said softly, leaning over the table. "They thought because Lena was quiet, she was weak."
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Dad looked at Claire, then turned his gaze to me.
"Claire," Dad ordered. "Call the United States Attorney’s Office for the Western District of Washington. Tell them Master Sergeant Vance has a federal financial crimes file for them. Let's see how much influence Richard Hardy Sr. has when the FBI comes knocking on his door."
