Chapter 2 - THE TRUST
I did not confront Jake that night.
That was the smartest decision I made all week.
Police arrived first.
Jake disappeared through the rear alley before they reached him.
Mrs. Chen brought Emma upstairs after the building was cleared.
The second Emma saw me, she ran.
“Mama!”
I forgot Luca.
Jake.
Six million dollars.
Everything.
I dropped to my knees and caught her.
Bad idea.
My ankle screamed.
I almost fell.
Luca caught my shoulder.
Emma immediately glared at him.
“Who are you?”
Luca Castellano, feared by half of Seattle, looked momentarily uncertain in front of a three-year-old wearing dinosaur pajamas.
“Luca.”
Emma considered.
“Why are you holding Mommy?”
He released me.
“Good question.”
I almost laughed.
Mrs. Chen appeared behind her.
Seventy years old.
Five feet tall.
Vietnamese-American.
More dangerous than anybody in Luca’s security detail when angry.
She looked at him.
“You mafia?”
I closed my eyes.
“Mrs. Chen.”
Luca’s eyebrows lifted.
“Depends who you ask.”
She pointed at him.
“No trouble in building.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stared.
Apparently Luca could follow instructions.
Useful information.
He arranged for an independent attorney to meet me the next morning.
I refused his lawyer.
He had expected that.
The attorney he recommended gave me three other names and told me to choose one.
I chose Rachel Kim because her website did not mention Luca once.
She explained the trust.
Dad owned 14 percent of Carter Marine Services through an old employee ownership arrangement.
When he died, his will placed those shares in trust for descendants.
I had no children then.
When Emma was born, she became beneficiary.
I became trustee automatically under the document.
My uncle had been receiving correspondence.
He claimed he couldn't find me after I moved.
That part was believable.
I had changed apartments four times in three years.
What I did not know was Carter Marine had recently secured rights connected to a major waterfront redevelopment.
The shares were suddenly valuable.
Very valuable.
Rachel slid the forged transfer across the desk.
“They need your consent to sell.”
“I never gave it.”
“I believe you.”
“What about Jake?”
“As Emma’s father, he has no automatic authority over this trust.”
Relief.
Then:
“Unless he obtains guardianship or has you removed as trustee.”
My stomach tightened.
“How would he do that?”
Rachel chose her words carefully.
“By persuading a court you're unable to act.”
I thought of my apartment.
My overdue bills.
Emma’s prescription.
My injured ankle.
Double shifts.
“They'll say I'm poor.”
“Being poor does not make you an unfit parent.”
“What if Jake says I abandoned her?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then we gather evidence.”
Evidence.
Not fear.
Good.
Then Rachel asked:
“Did Jake ever have access to your financial documents?”
I almost laughed.
“He stole my inheritance.”
Her expression changed.
“How?”
My grandmother left me $410,000 when she died.
I had received it shortly after Emma was born.
Jake told me we should consolidate accounts.
I was exhausted.
Postpartum.
Emma had respiratory issues and spent two weeks in and out of clinics.
Jake brought papers.
I signed some.
Not all.
Two months later the account was empty.
Jake vanished.
Police found an authorization bearing my signature allowing him to transfer funds.
I swore it was forged.
No one proved it.
Rachel leaned back.
“The signature on that transfer…”
She pointed toward the new Carter Marine document.
“Looks similar?”
I stared.
Same slightly wrong A.
Same compressed r.
My skin went cold.
“It’s the same person.”
“Maybe.”
She corrected.
“We verify.”
I liked her more every minute.
Then the office door opened.
Luca.
Rachel looked annoyed.
“I said noon.”
“It is noon.”
I checked the clock.
Exactly.
Of course.
He placed a file down.
Rachel frowned.
“What?”
“Due-diligence records.”
Inside were emails between the buyer and Carter Marine representatives.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Vincent Marchetti.
Luca’s COO.
Rachel looked at him.
“Your Marchetti?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“You said Jake met a man beside a black sedan.”
Luca nodded.
“Vincent.”
The man in the photograph.
One of Luca’s most trusted executives.
“How long has he worked for you?”
“Fourteen years.”
That silence said enough.
Then Luca showed me an email.
Vincent to outside counsel:
Maternal trustee is financially vulnerable. Father believes pressure will be effective. Move before Castellano reviews final beneficial ownership.
I read it twice.
Maternal trustee.
Me.
Financially vulnerable.
Sixty-three dollars.
They knew exactly what I had.
Luca’s face was colder than the rain outside.
“They didn't find a loophole.”
He looked at me.
May you like
“They found a poor woman and decided poverty was the loophole.”
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