Chapter 4 - THE COMPANY WITH MY SON’S NAME
I stared at the page.
Lucas's name.
My newborn son's name.
As beneficiary of a company I had never heard of.
“How is that possible?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“It may have been created as an asset-protection structure.”
“Then why didn't Vincent tell me?”
“I don't know.”
“Could it be innocent?”
“Yes.”
That answer should have comforted me.
It didn't.
Because everything innocent about Vincent had lately required an explanation.
I spent the next morning reviewing every document Eleanor had brought.
There were holding companies.
Properties.
Loans.
Partnerships.
Insurance policies.
A web of businesses connected by names I had heard at dinner but never understood.
Then I saw one company listed repeatedly.
Carter Family Holdings, LLC.
The registration date was eight months before Lucas was born.
The beneficiary was Lucas Carter.
The trustee was Vincent Carter.
And the secondary trustee was Camille Reed.
My hands went cold.
“Why would Camille be trustee over my son?”
Eleanor leaned over the document.
“That is unusual.”
“Can she move the money?”
“Not without satisfying the trust terms.”
“Who wrote the terms?”
“That's what I want to know.”
She kept reading.
Then she stopped.
“This isn't a trust.”
“What?”
“It is a holding agreement.”
“For what?”
She pointed at the assets.
Three warehouses.
Two restaurants.
A construction property.
And a security company.
I stared.
“That's worth millions.”
“Yes.”
“Why would Vincent put those assets under Lucas's name?”
“Maybe he intended to protect them for your son.”
“Then why did he hide them from me?”
“I don't know.”
She looked at another page.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“This document was amended two weeks ago.”
“By whom?”
“Vincent.”
“Can you tell what changed?”
“Yes.”
She turned the page.
“The beneficiary was originally you.”
My chest tightened.
“When did he change it?”
“Two weeks after you told him you were pregnant.”
I stared at the date.
That was the day Vincent had kissed me in the kitchen and said, “We'll build something beautiful for our son.”
I had believed him.
Now I didn't know what those words meant.
Eleanor continued reading.
“There was another amendment.”
“When?”
“Three days before Lucas was born.”
I swallowed.
“What changed?”
“The successor trustee.”
“Who?”
She looked at me.
“Camille.”
I stood up.
“Why would he make Camille responsible for my son's assets three days before I gave birth?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
Eleanor nodded.
“That's what I'm doing.”
I looked at Lucas through the nursery window.
He was awake.
Tiny fists.
Tiny mouth.
Perfectly unaware that adults had built an entire financial structure around his name.
That evening, Mom sat beside me.
“You need to sleep.”
“I can't.”
“Then at least eat.”
“I found a company Vincent created for Lucas.”
Mom went still.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Does it contain money?”
“Assets.”
“How much?”
“I don't know yet.”
Mom shook her head.
“He's been planning something.”
I looked at her.
“You think he wants to leave us?”
“No.”
She paused.
“I think he wants control.”
That night, Vincent didn't come home.
At 11:47 p.m., my phone lit up.
A message from him.
I need space. I'll explain tomorrow.
I stared at the words.
I had spent years interpreting Vincent's silences.
This time, I answered.
I need the truth.
He replied:
You won't like it.
I didn't answer again.
The next morning, Eleanor arrived carrying a file.
“I found Camille.”
“Where?”
“She's staying at a hotel downtown.”
“Does she want to see me?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does she want?”
“She wants immunity.”
“For what?”
“She says she was involved in moving assets because Vincent ordered her to.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then she knows everything.”
“Possibly.”
“She gave the watch back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“She says Vincent told her to keep it safe.”
“Safe from whom?”
“From his father.”
I frowned.
“His father died years ago.”
“Exactly.”
There was a pause.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It gets stranger.”
She handed me a photograph.
It showed Vincent and an older man in a hospital corridor.
The older man was alive.
Very much alive.
My hands started shaking.
“Who is that?”
Eleanor answered quietly.
“Vincent's father.”
I stared at the date.
It was six months ago.
“That's impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“Where is he?”
“He owns a private care facility outside Chicago.”
I looked up.
“Why would Vincent tell me his father was dead?”
“I don't know.”
“Maybe because his father wasn't supposed to be alive.”
Eleanor nodded.
“That is one possibility.”
“What's the other?”
She turned the photograph over.
A handwritten note covered the back.
He knows what happened to the first Carter family.
I felt the room tilt.
“What first Carter family?”
Eleanor looked directly at me.
“That,” she said, “is what Camille says you need to ask Vincent.”
Before I could respond, the front door opened.
Vincent walked in.
He looked exhausted.
His eyes went directly to the photograph in my hand.
He stopped.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
May you like
Then he quietly said:
“You found him.”
