Chapter 5 - The Secret Company
“LENA TOLD ME TO DELETE THE FINANCIAL RECORDS. WHEN I REFUSED, SHE SAID PEOPLE LIKE YOU COULD AFFORD TO LOSE A FEW HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS.”
Naomi Park spoke carefully, as though every word still frightened her.
It was Sunday, November 29.
We were meeting over video with Marcy present.
Naomi was forty-one, a former operations manager who had worked for Harborlight Wellness Holdings for nine months.
She had resigned in October.
Since then, she'd been afraid Lena might blame her when the company collapsed.
“I kept copies of the reports I was authorized to work with,” Naomi explained. “I didn't alter them. I didn't delete the originals. I knew something was wrong, and I wanted a record of what I'd seen.”
Marcy nodded.
“That's helpful. We'll want investigators to preserve the underlying accounts and electronic records.”
Naomi opened a spreadsheet.
I recognized the first incoming amount immediately.
$420,000.
August 17.
“That's the money from my parents' second mortgage,” I said.
Naomi nodded.
“The transfer came from an account in Robert and Diane Collins's names.”
“And Lena told you what?”
“That it was a family investment.”
I closed my eyes.
Family investment.
Apparently, those two words were enough to excuse anything.
Naomi scrolled down.
October 9.
$225,000.
October 12.
$230,000.
October 15.
$225,000.
Every transfer was there.
The money from Grandma Ruth's land sale.
The money intended to repay me.
All of it had entered Lena Wellness Holdings.
“Where did it go?” I asked.
Naomi looked at Marcy.
“Some of the funds went to advertising, consultants, deposits, and company expenses. Some went to accounts I couldn't access.”
“What accounts?”
“One belonged to a company called Cedar Pier Assets.”
I'd never heard the name.
“Who owns it?”
Naomi hesitated.
“That's part of why I contacted you.”
She shared another document.
It was a business registration.
Cedar Pier Assets was described as a real estate investment company established to acquire hospitality properties.
The registration identified a managing member.
Emma Collins.
My full name.
My Seattle address.
And a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
I stared at the screen.
“What is this?”
Naomi's expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
I shook my head.
“No. That isn't my signature.”
“We suspected that,” Marcy said.
“Lena made me an owner of a company I didn't know existed?”
Naomi nodded.
“On paper.”
I sat back.
It was one thing to discover that my sister had been stealing money.
It was another to learn she had been building an entire business structure around my stolen identity.
“What was Cedar Pier Assets buying?” I asked.
“A property near Port Townsend.”
Naomi opened another file.
A photograph appeared.
An old waterfront lodge stood above a rocky shoreline.
The building had faded blue siding, a broad porch, and enormous windows facing the water.
The brochure called it Sable Point Retreat.
The image was beautiful.
Almost convincing.
Then Naomi showed me the actual inspection photographs.
The roof was deteriorating.
Several rooms had extensive water damage.
The property required major electrical work.
A retaining wall near the shoreline had been flagged for engineering review.
The beautiful retreat existed only in promotional renderings.
“Lena knew about these problems?” I asked.
Naomi nodded.
“She received the inspection reports in July.”
“Before she borrowed money against my parents' house?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photographs.
“How much would the repairs cost?”
“The preliminary estimate was close to nine hundred thousand dollars. And that didn't include every potential problem.”
I shook my head.
“Then why was she trying to buy it?”
“She believed that once enough investors committed, she could raise more money to finish the project.”
“Was there a realistic financing plan?”
“Not one I ever saw.”
Naomi continued.
There had been a conditional purchase agreement involving Cedar Pier Assets.
Lena had arranged for a substantial deposit to be held in a real estate escrow account.
Meanwhile, she was collecting money from investors who believed the retreat was practically ready to open.
Some had been shown photographs of furnished guest rooms.
Others had received descriptions of renovated spa facilities.
None of those facilities actually existed.
“She wanted me to change the investor report,” Naomi said.
“Change it how?”
“She wanted the condition of the property described as cosmetic repairs only.”
I stared at her.
“And you refused?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She said I lacked vision.”
For the first time that afternoon, Naomi smiled sadly.
“Apparently, vision meant pretending a leaking roof wasn't a leaking roof.”
I almost smiled back.
Then she opened another spreadsheet.
This one listed outgoing payments.
There were marketing expenses.
Consulting fees.
Payments to real estate advisers.
A large escrow deposit.
And charges that appeared unrelated to the proposed retreat.
Designer furniture.
Luxury hotel stays.
Expensive restaurant bills.
A substantial payment toward a vehicle.
Some transactions remained unclear because Naomi hadn't had access to the full banking records.
But the pattern was unmistakable.
Money was arriving from my parents and investors.
Lena was spending it as though success had already happened.
“Did you confront her?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Naomi's mouth tightened.
“She said wealthy people never got rich by worrying about every dollar.”
I stared at the screen.
“I sold my rental property to raise that money.”
Naomi looked stricken.
“I didn't know.”
“I worked for fifteen years. I saved. I skipped vacations. I invested carefully.”
My voice trembled.
“Those dollars weren't extra. They were years of my life.”
Marcy gently interrupted.
“Emma, we should also identify which payments may still be recoverable.”
I nodded.
She was right.
Anger wouldn't bring the money back.
Facts might.
Naomi agreed to provide records through appropriate channels and cooperate with investigators.
Before the meeting ended, I asked one more question.
“Why did you finally decide to contact me?”
She looked directly into the camera.
“Because I saw your sister's Thanksgiving post.”
I frowned.
“She posted photographs of the dinner?”
“Yes. Then somebody shared a screenshot of the legal notice being discussed.”
Naomi swallowed.
“I realized the person whose name was on all those guarantees might not know what Lena was doing.”
A strange feeling passed through me.
My family had excluded me because Lena feared I'd embarrass her.
But the very envelope they had condemned had led someone to uncover the truth.
“Thank you,” I told Naomi.
She looked relieved.
After our call, Marcy asked me to stay online.
“There's something in that business registration we need to discuss.”
I leaned forward.
“What?”
“The form identifies a witness who supposedly confirmed your identity.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Marcy enlarged the bottom of the page.
Beside the forged signature was another name.
Not Lena's.
Not an employee's.
Not a business associate's.
Diane Collins.
May you like
My mother.
And this time, the signature beside her name appeared to be genuine.
