Chapter 8 - The Golden Child Crumbles
At 1:45 PM the following day, I sat in the sprawling conference room of Marcus Thorne’s firm. The long glass table gleamed under the recessed lighting. Beside me sat Marcus, calmly organizing a thick stack of legal briefs, and at the end of the table sat Detective Reynolds from the Charleston Police Department, dressed in a sharp civilian suit.
At exactly 2:00 PM, the heavy oak doors swung open. Eleanor marched in, radiating an aura of smug victory. She was dressed in her Sunday best, chin held high. Flanking her were my brother Greg and Aunt Martha, looking like triumphant bodyguards.
Eleanor didn't even acknowledge me. She looked directly at Marcus. "I assume you have the settlement papers and the cashier's check? My son finally realized he can't survive without his mother's guidance."
"Take a seat, Mrs. Vance," Marcus said, his voice smooth and devoid of emotion.
They sat opposite us. Greg leaned back, crossing his arms. "Let's make this quick, Dave. Mom has been through enough trauma."
"Let's talk about the money first," I said, keeping my face entirely blank. "The half a million dollars you transferred out of my accounts over the last six months."
Eleanor scoffed, waving a manicured hand. "That was my rightful compensation for uprooting my life. You owe me for raising you. Besides, you gave me your passwords. It was practically a gift. Now, hand over the official settlement so I can leave."
"I see," Marcus interjected, tapping a pen on the glass. "And Mr. Gregory Vance, were you aware that a large portion of these funds were subsequently wired into your personal accounts to cover your gambling debts and failed real estate ventures?"
Greg froze. He shot a panicked look at Eleanor. "Mom said that was an early inheritance."
"It wasn't hers to give," I said softly. "It was stolen. And receiving stolen property over $10,000 is a felony, Greg."
Greg’s face turned the color of ash. He pushed his chair back, distancing himself from Eleanor. "I didn't know! I swear to God, Dave, she told me you were investing in my company!"
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Eleanor slammed her hand on the table. "Stop this nonsense! Give me the check, David, or I swear I will post the rest of the pictures and ruin your reputation forever!"
I looked at the detective, who gave a subtle nod. The trap was locked.
