Chapter 4: The Payment That Would Not Stop
Gabriel pressed the number beneath the alert.
“Westbridge Trust Company,” a woman answered.
“This is Dana.”
“My name is Gabriel Hart.
Freeze every payment from Amelia Hart’s trust.”
Marlene stepped forward.
“You cannot do that.”
Gabriel turned his back to her.
“The request approved tonight was not authorized by me.”
Dana’s keyboard clicked.
“I see a payment for $22,700.
The request passed two-factor verification.”
“What verification?”
“A code sent to the mobile number on file.”
Gabriel gave her his number.
Dana went quiet.
“That is not the number listed, Mr.
Hart.”
Marlene snatched her handbag from the counter.
Gabriel saw a second phone inside before she closed it.
“Put the bag down.”
“You don’t give me orders in my own family.”
“This is my house, my daughter, and Nora’s trust.”
Everett moved between them.
“Marlene, give him the phone.”
She stepped back.
“You knew I handled the paperwork.”
“I knew you paid bills,” Everett said.
“I didn’t know you invented services.”
Amelia remained in the hallway.
Gabriel crouched and held out his hand.
“Sweetheart, go upstairs and lock your door.
Take Biscuit.”
Marlene pointed at him.
“Don’t frighten her.”
Amelia flinched.
Gabriel’s voice dropped.
“You already did.”
Amelia took Biscuit’s collar and hurried upstairs.
Her bedroom lock clicked.
Dana spoke through the phone.
“Mr.
Hart, I’ve placed a temporary hold, but the approved payment has entered processing.
You need to submit a written dispute by nine tomorrow morning.”
“Email it now.”
“Gabriel,” Marlene said, “if you accuse me publicly, Amelia loses the only stable woman left in her life.”
“You made her believe I might send her away.”
“I made her cooperate.
She has always been difficult.”
Everett struck the counter with his palm.
“She is a child.”
Marlene stared at him.
“And you enjoyed the mortgage being paid.”
Gabriel looked at his father.
“The mortgage?”
Everett sank into a chair.
“She told me the money came from consulting work.”
Dana’s email arrived.
Attached was the latest request, including treatment logs signed by someone named Celia Voss.
Gabriel enlarged the page.
Eight sessions were listed during his Chicago trip, each lasting four hours.
“Amelia was in school at these times.”
Marlene’s jaw tightened.
“Records can contain mistakes.”
“All eight?”
The doorbell rang.
Marlene reached it first, but Gabriel blocked the handle.
“Who are you expecting?”
“No one.”
The bell rang again.
A woman called through the door.
“Marlene, it’s Celia.
You said Gabriel wouldn’t be home until Saturday.”
Gabriel opened the door.
The woman on the porch held a clipboard in one hand and a folder marked AMELIA HART in the other.
May you like
Celia looked past him at Marlene.
“You told me the father had signed everything.”
