Chapter 3 - The Queen’s Gambit
Eleanor didn't scream. She didn't drop her glass. She simply set her wine flute down on the marble coffee table with a deliberate, maddening click, adjusting the collar of her silk blouse with manicured fingers.
“You look terrible, Genevieve,” my mother said, her voice dripping with venomous condescension as she stood up. “I suppose federal holding cells aren't quite up to your usual standards. Though I should remind you that trespassing on property legally deeded to me constitutes a parole violation.”
I stopped ten feet away from her, my eyes narrowing. “Deeded to you? You forged a power of attorney while I was sitting in a holding cell, Mother. That isn't a deed; that’s an indictable felony.”
Brenda stepped forward from beside Chad, her eyes flashing with defensive arrogance. “You don't own anything anymore, Gen! Your bank accounts are frozen, your townhouse was legally transferred to an LLC owned by your mother, and your husband filed for emergency custody an hour ago. You’re a convicted felon. You have no money, no home, and no rights.”
“Is that so?”
A deep, resonant voice echoed from the open doorway behind me.
Chad, Eleanor, and Brenda all snapped their heads toward the entrance. As Christopher Lindqvist stepped out of the shadow of the porch light and into the warm foyer, the color drained completely from my mother’s face. For a second, Eleanor looked as though she had seen a ghost.
“C-Christopher?” Eleanor stammered, her hands instinctively clutching the pearls around her neck. “What are you doing here? This is a private residence!”
“Not quite, Eleanor,” Christopher said, walking slowly into the living room, his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. He didn't look at my mother; his cold, piercing gaze locked onto Chad, who was now trembling visibly. “You see, the two million dollars your son-in-law here thought he was embezzling from a shell company was actually drawn from a private liquidity pool managed directly by Lindqvist Enterprises.”
Chad’s breath hitched. He grabbed the edge of the bookshelf to steady himself. “That’s... that’s impossible. The account credentials belonged to Genevieve! Her e-signature was on every wire transfer!”
“My e-signature can be cloned by any competent IT specialist with root access to the company’s internal server—an access level granted exclusively to the chief financial officer’s husband, who routinely stayed late in the IT department,” Christopher replied smoothly, stopping beside me. He turned to look at Chad with absolute disdain. “You didn't rob a random corporation, Mr. Price. You stole directly from my private portfolio. And under federal law, wire fraud exceeding one million dollars involving interstate commercial entities carries a mandatory minimum of twenty years.”
The room went dead silent. You could hear the electronic hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Chad’s knees buckled slightly. He looked wildly between Christopher and me, his voice pitching up in panic. “Eleanor said you wouldn't care! She said you kept Genevieve hidden because you were ashamed of her! She said we could take the money and the house, and nobody would ever look twice!”
“Chad!” Eleanor shrieked, her face turning crimson with fury. “Shut your stupid mouth!”
May you like
“Too late for that, Mother,” I said softly, taking a step toward the corner where Toby was sitting.
---
