My father replied:
Already handled.
That email became part of the evidence.
But there was more.
Another message.
This one from my father to my mother.
He had written:
Once Mom gets used to giving us money, she’ll stop questioning it.
My mother replied:
I hope so.
Grandma read the messages in Mr. Grant’s office.
She didn’t cry.
That surprised me.
She simply closed her eyes.
After a long moment, she said,
“I loved them.”
Mr. Grant nodded.
“I know.”
“I raised them.”
“I know.”
“They were my babies.”
“I know.”
She opened her eyes.
“And they still chose this.”
Nobody answered.
Because there was nothing to say.
Three weeks later, the family trust held a formal hearing.
My father arrived with an attorney.
Aunt Monica arrived alone.
My mother didn’t come.
My cousins sat in the back.
I sat beside Grandma.
The trustee reviewed the evidence.
The unauthorized transfers.
The false descriptions.
The credit card payments.
The travel expenses.
The forged expense explanations.
The emails.
The airport incident.
Everything.
When the trustee finished, he asked Grandma if she wished to speak.
She stood slowly.
She looked at my father.
For a moment, I thought she might cry.
