Chapter 13 - The Missing MillionThe forensic accounting review finally answered the oldest question.
Where had the original money gone?
Not all of it to Price.
Not all to failed investments.
Nearly $300,000 had been routed into a property Beverly purchased secretly in Florida.
A condominium overlooking the Gulf.
Title held through an LLC.
Richard never knew.
Monica stared at the photographs.
“My mother had another home?”
Aaron nodded.
“She bought it twelve years ago.”
“Did she live there?”
“Occasionally.”
Monica remembered Beverly taking “spa weekends.”
Conferences.
Visits with friends.
A second life.
The condo was later sold.
Proceeds moved into additional Price investments.
Beverly had not merely made one financial mistake.
She had spent years constructing private independence while continuing to use Richard’s assets.
Monica asked:
“Why stay married?”
Aaron shrugged.
“People are complicated.”
That answer no longer frustrated her.
Complication did not mean mystery had no shape.
Beverly wanted security without accountability.
Marriage gave status.
Richard’s wealth gave comfort.
Price gave excitement and the possibility of private fortune.
The trust gave Beverly residence.
She resented every arrangement that prevented her from controlling all of them at once.
Then came another discovery.
BH Legacy had purchased a $1 million life insurance policy on Beverly.
The beneficiary was not Monica.
It was a Price-controlled lending entity.
Ward explained:
“Collateral.”
Monica stared.
“If she defaulted and died…”
“The lender could recover.”
Monica felt an unexpected chill.
“Did she know?”
“Probably. She signed it.”
Beverly had become collateral in her own scheme.
Price’s manipulation suddenly looked more predatory.
Again, nuance.
Again, no absolution.
Price faced charges related to fraud, conspiracy, unlawful surveillance activities tied to Vale, and financial misconduct.
His lawyers negotiated.
He insisted Beverly was the driving force behind the forged signature.
Evidence supported that.
But he created the pressure.
Financed the watcher.
Encouraged deception.
Designed the land strategy.
Neither could place the entire crime on the other.
Monica found satisfaction in that.
Not revenge.
Structure.
Responsibility staying attached to the person who earned it.
Jasper asked about the garden again.
“Did Grandpa plant all those flowers?”
“Some.”
“Did Grandma?”
“Some.”
“What happens to them?”
“Flowers don’t know who planted them.”
He smiled.
“That’s weird.”
“I’m philosophical now.”
“No, you’re old.”
“I’m thirty-six.”
“Ancient.”
She threw a pillow at him.
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“Can we go back someday?”
“To the mansion?”
“Maybe.”
“Yes.”
“Do we have to live there?”
“No.”
He nodded.
That answer was becoming one of Monica’s gifts.
No forced destiny.
No “Grandpa would have wanted.”
No “family tradition.”
Richard protected the choice.
Monica intended to preserve it.
The criminal case against Beverly approached a turning point.
Prosecutors offered a plea resolution.
Serious charges.
No guarantee of avoiding incarceration.
Restitution.
Restrictions on contact with Jasper.
Cooperation regarding Price.
Beverly hesitated.
Her attorney contacted Monica’s lawyer.
“She wants to know whether Monica would support a lighter sentence.”
Monica laughed once.
“No.”
Aaron looked at her.
“You sure?”
“I’m not asking for harsher punishment either.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth in the record.”
That mattered more.
Beverly had spent years living through private settlements.
Quiet compromises.
No public acknowledgment.
Monica would not participate in another.
Beverly eventually accepted responsibility for multiple offenses.
The prosecutor did not require Jasper to testify in open court.
His recorded statements, physical evidence, Monica’s eyewitness account, digital records, and Beverly’s admissions made that unnecessary.
When Monica told him, he looked relieved.
“So I don’t have to see her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Then:
“Will she hear what I said?”
“Some of it may be discussed.”
Jasper thought.
“Tell them I yelled.”
“What?”
“Inside.”
“I know.”
“No. Tell them I yelled really loud.”
Monica’s eyes filled.
“Why?”
“So nobody says I didn’t try.”
She hugged him.
“You tried.”
“I kept hitting.”
“I know.”
“My hands hurt.”
“I know.”
Jasper leaned against her.
“I thought nobody heard.”
Monica whispered:
“I heard.”
He closed his eyes.
That was the part he needed.
Not police.
Not money.
Not land.
May you like
The sound had reached someone.
And someone came.
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