Chapter 3 - The Hawthorne Holdings Meeting
I didn't call the police this time. I called Marcus Vance, the aggressive young probate litigator my attorney’s office had assigned to my case.
"He's trying to move the commercial liquidity before the asset freeze order hits the registrar's desk tomorrow morning," Vance said over the phone, his voice sharp and energized. "If that money hits an out-of-state retainer account, recovering it will take eighteen months of bankruptcy court maneuvers. We need to block it today."
"How?" I asked, gripping my steering wheel as I sat parked outside the bank.
"We need a physical injunction signed by Judge Holloway this afternoon, which means we need a signature from a corporate officer of Hawthorne Holdings acknowledging fraudulent conveyance," Vance said. "And the only person other than your father listed on that corporate filing as a secondary managing director is..." He paused, flipping through his digital files. "...your sister, Britney Miller."
I stared through my windshield at the gray Columbus sky. Britney was sitting in a holding cell downtown, facing a felony identity theft charge that carried up to five years in prison. She was terrified, broke, and entirely abandoned by the parents who had taught her how to steal.
"Get me an interview room at the Franklin County Detention Center," I said quietly.
Thirty minutes later, the heavy metal door of the legal consultation room slammed shut behind me.
Britney looked smaller than she had at the Thanksgiving table. Her orange jumpsuit hung loosely on her shoulders, her hair was unwashed, and the arrogant smirk that had defined her entire adult life was completely gone. Her eyes were red-rimmed and hollow.
She looked up as I sat down at the opposite side of the steel table, sliding my leather portfolio between us.
"Hannah," she choked out, her voice cracking. "Please. The guards said... they said I could be here for weeks before arraignment. Bail is set at twenty-five thousand dollars. Mom and Dad won't answer my calls—they said their accounts are locked. You have to help me. You're my sister."
"I am your sister," I replied evenly, opening the folder to reveal the commercial property deed and Grandma Dot’s ledger copy. "And right now, you and Dad are sitting on half a million dollars of property that legally belongs to me under Grandma’s real, un-tampered will."
Britney blinked, staring blankly at the documents. "I... I don't know what that is. Dad handles all the business stuff. I just signed what he told me to sign."
"You signed as a corporate officer of Hawthorne Holdings, Britney," I said, leaning forward. "Which means you are legally complicit in corporate fraud, estate forgery, and money laundering. When Dad tried to wire $45,000 out of that account an hour ago to pay his criminal defense lawyer, he essentially tried to hide stolen assets."
Britney shook her head frantically, tears spilling over her cheeks. "I didn't know! He told me it was just family business! He said we were protecting the estate from taxes!"
"He lied to you, just like he lied to me," I said, my voice cold. "Here is your choice, Britney. You can stay in this jail cell, take the full fall for the identity theft and corporate laundering while Dad throws you under the bus to save himself... or you can sign this emergency corporate affidavit revoking Dad's sole managerial control of Hawthorne Holdings and signing the commercial property over to its rightful owner."
Britney stared at the pen I pushed across the table. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely lift it.
"If I do that... Dad will never speak to me again," she sobbed. "He'll disown me."
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"He already disowned you the second he let you take the blame for a credit card he helped you max out," I said softly. "Sign the paper, Britney. And maybe I'll talk to the prosecutor about reducing your identity theft charge to a suspended sentence."
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