Chapter 3 - THE TRUST I THOUGHT WAS EMPTY
My mother died when I was twenty-five.
She left me what I thought was a modest investment account.
About $180,000.
Enough to help with the apartment down payment.
Dana told me that was wrong.
Very wrong.
My mother, Evelyn Mercer, had inherited minority interests in a regional logistics company.
Those shares were moved into a trust before her death.
I had never seen them.
Never received statements.
“Why?”
“Because the trust administrator changed three years ago.”
“When?”
“Two weeks after your wedding.”
I looked at Jackson.
“Who became administrator?”
“Carter Fiduciary Services.”
Genesis’s cousin owned it.
My stomach turned.
Richard sat down.
“I didn’t know.”
Genesis laughed.
“Of course you didn’t.”
Richard looked at her.
“You did.”
She shrugged.
“Emma’s mother left disorganized assets. We cleaned them up.”
“By hiding them?”
“By managing them.”
Dana interrupted.
“Emma, ask her whether the trust still owns Mercer Freight preferred shares.”
I repeated the question.
Genesis went still.
“How much are they worth?”
Dana said, “Between nine and eleven million.”
Jackson sat down hard.
He did not know.
“Mom,” he whispered.
Genesis snapped, “Do not act shocked.”
“I thought the trust was small.”
“You thought whatever I told you to think.”
The family dynamic suddenly made sense.
Genesis controlled information around everyone.
Jackson included.
That did not excuse him.
But it explained how she operated.
She made people dependent on her version of reality.
The police arrived after I requested medical help.
Genesis claimed I became hysterical and attacked her.
Richard contradicted her.
So did the housekeeper.
Jackson remained silent.
That silence hurt.
Later, at the hospital, he texted:
I didn’t know about the trust.
I did not reply.
Another message:
I’m sorry about the plate.
Sorry about the plate.
Not sorry I hit you.
The plate.
As though porcelain had misbehaved.
I screenshotted everything.
Dana met me in the ER.
She looked at the bruise forming near my temple.
“Do you want to go back?”
“No.”
“Good. Then we act fast.”
She opened a legal pad.
“Emergency order on the apartment. Freeze trust transfers. Preserve assault evidence. Then we determine how much Jackson knew.”
She slid one paper toward me.
A transfer authorization from my mother’s trust.
Signed electronically.
Username: emma.carter.
IP address: my home.
Date: six months earlier.
I had been in Chicago that day.
Only two people had the alarm code.
May you like
Jackson.
And Genesis.
