Chapter 8 - The Price of a Mother's Silence"I DIDN'T KNOW ANYONE WOULD LOSE MONEY! GRANT SAID IT WAS ALL PERFECTLY LEGAL!"
Patricia's voice cracked across Helena's conference room.
She sat in a high-backed chair, wearing the same camel-colored coat she'd worn when she confronted me in my condominium lobby.
But she looked different now.
The arrogance was still there.
So was the pride.
Yet beneath both lay something I'd never seen before.
Shame.
Helena had arranged the meeting after Patricia agreed to speak, and she'd encouraged Patricia to obtain independent legal advice.
Patricia had initially refused.
She claimed lawyers only made things complicated.
Eventually, after Evelyn insisted, she'd consulted her own attorney.
Now that attorney sat beside her.
I sat across the table.
Evelyn was nearby.
Nobody raised a voice.
That made the atmosphere even more uncomfortable.
Helena opened a folder.
"Mrs. Mercer, we're not asking you to speculate about your son's intentions. We need to understand what you personally saw, signed, and communicated."
Patricia folded her hands.
"Grant told me Simone agreed to help him."
I looked directly at her.
"Did you believe that?"
She hesitated.
"Yes."
"Did you ask me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Because you weren't speaking to me."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Patricia, you never asked me about Northstar when we were speaking. You didn't ask while I was still married to Grant. You didn't ask when I paid your bills. You didn't ask when you picked up his engagement ring."
She looked away.
I continued.
"You only contacted me when your credit card stopped working."
Her face reddened.
"I don't appreciate being humiliated."
I almost laughed.
"You came into my building and accused me of abandoning your family in front of strangers."
"That was different."
"How?"
She had no answer.
Helena gently redirected the conversation.
"Let's return to the guarantee."
Patricia stared at the table.
"Grant brought me the document. He said Simone had already signed it."
"Did you see her sign?" Helena asked.
"No."
The room became silent.
Her attorney leaned forward slightly.
"Patricia, answer only what you personally know."
She swallowed.
"I didn't see Simone sign."
Helena made a note.
"Then why did you provide a statement claiming you witnessed the signing?"
Patricia's hands began to shake.
"Grant said it was just a formality."
I stared at her.
"A formality?"
"He said your signature was already there. He said the lender needed someone to confirm it."
"And you agreed?"
"He told me the loan was important."
I leaned forward.
"Important enough to lie?"
Patricia closed her eyes.
For nine years, she'd called me selfish.
For nine years, she'd judged my character.
Now she couldn't bring herself to look at me.
"Yes," she whispered.
The admission settled over the room.
It didn't magically repair anything.
It didn't explain every transaction.
But it confirmed something essential.
Patricia had knowingly claimed to witness an event that never happened.
Helena paused before continuing.
"Mrs. Mercer, your attorney can advise you about the implications of that statement. We also need to understand the referral payments."
Patricia looked frightened.
"Grant said I deserved compensation."
"For what?" I asked.
"Introducing people."
"Did you tell Helen McLeod you were being paid?"
She shook her head.
"Did you tell any of the investors?"
"No."
"Did Grant instruct you not to?"
"He said people might misunderstand."
I sat back.
Of course.
Another misunderstanding.
Another convenient explanation.
Another person persuaded to ignore an uncomfortable question.
"Patricia, did you know Northstar was using my company's name?"
"Yes."
"Did you know I'd never agreed to endorse it?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she whispered:
"I suspected."
My throat tightened.
There it was.
The truth I'd been searching for.
She hadn't merely made a mistake.
She had chosen not to ask questions because the answers might interfere with what she wanted.
Money.
Comfort.
The appearance of a successful son.
I looked at the woman who had spent nearly a decade telling me I wasn't good enough for her family.
"Patricia, Helen McLeod may lose sixty-two thousand dollars."
Her eyes filled.
"I know."
"Her husband worked his entire life to save that money."
"I know."
"And you recommended Northstar to her while collecting referral payments you didn't disclose."
A tear slipped down Patricia's cheek.
"I didn't think it would end like this."
I took a slow breath.
"Neither did Helen."
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then Patricia reached into her handbag.
She removed a small electronic storage drive.
"I kept something."
Her attorney looked surprised.
"Patricia, what is that?"
"Recordings."
I stared at her.
"Recordings of what?"
"Grant and Warren."
Evelyn leaned forward.
"Mom?"
Patricia swallowed.
"Last spring, I started worrying about the investment. Helen kept asking questions about her quarterly payments."
"What did Grant tell you?" Helena asked.
"That everything would be fine."
"And?"
"Then I heard him arguing with Warren."
Patricia stared at the storage drive.
"They were in my kitchen. They thought I was upstairs."
I leaned forward.
"What were they arguing about?"
"The divorce settlement."
My pulse quickened.
Patricia continued.
"Warren said they needed everything finished before Simone discovered the guarantees."
I felt cold.
"Did Grant answer?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
Patricia looked at me.
"He said the only thing he needed was enough time."
She slid the drive across the table.
"I recorded part of the conversation because I thought they might try to blame me if things went wrong."
There was something painfully revealing about that admission.
Even Patricia had sensed danger.
But instead of warning the people involved, she'd protected herself.
Helena carefully documented where the drive came from and arranged to have a copy preserved and examined.
Later that afternoon, with the original secured and the relevant permissions addressed, I listened to the recording with Helena.
The quality wasn't perfect.
There was background noise.
A refrigerator humming.
Someone moving a chair.
Then Warren Pike's voice became clear.
"Grant, the bank isn't going to accept that guarantee forever if she challenges it."
Grant answered sharply.
"She won't challenge anything until the settlement is final."
"You're too confident."
"Simone spent nine years paying for everyone because she couldn't stand being called selfish."
I stopped breathing.
Then Grant laughed.
"Believe me, Warren. She'll pay for this, too."
The recording continued.
Warren mentioned investor distributions.
Unpaid obligations.
Problems with refinancing.
Then Grant said something that made Helena pause the audio.
"We only need the Carter name long enough to secure the next round."
I stared at the laptop.
The Carter name.
Not Simone.
Not my wife.
Not even my company.
A brand.
A professional reputation he'd decided to use as collateral.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then Helena asked quietly:
"Simone, do you need a moment?"
I shook my head.
"Keep going."
The final portion contained Warren warning Grant that Northstar couldn't continue paying existing obligations without additional investor money.
Grant responded with another laugh.
"Then we find more investors."
I closed my eyes.
Helen's face appeared in my mind.
The worn leather folder.
The careful way she'd described her husband's savings.
Grant wasn't merely trying to protect a struggling company.
He was apparently planning to collect more money while existing investors were already waiting for payments.
Helena shut the laptop.
"We need to provide this to the investigators."
I nodded.
"And we need to warn the lender and the affected investors through appropriate channels."
"Yes."
I stood.
For the first time, the problem felt larger than my marriage.
Larger than Patricia.
Larger than the diamond ring.
There were people I'd never met whose futures could depend on what happened next.
That evening, as I returned home, my phone began vibrating repeatedly.
Messages.
Emails.
Notifications.
I opened the first one.
A colleague had forwarded a link from a local business publication.
The headline made my stomach drop.
OTTAWA FORENSIC ACCOUNTANT LINKED TO QUESTIONABLE PRIVATE PROPERTY INVESTMENT SCHEME.
Beneath it was my professional photograph.
And the article claimed I had secretly helped finance Northstar while pretending to be its victim.
May you like
I stared at the screen.
Grant had apparently decided that if he couldn't control my money anymore, he would try to destroy the reputation that allowed me to earn it.
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