Chapter 3 - THE FIRST NIGHT IN LONDON
John arrived in London on February 3.
Sarah contacted him on February 5.
Emma learned that in her parents’ study while thirty relatives whispered outside.
Sarah refused to sit.
John remained by the door.
Emma stood near Robert’s desk.
“Start talking.”
John did.
He had received a message through LinkedIn from Sarah.
At first he thought it was fake.
You’re Emma’s John, right? I’m Sarah. I’m in London too. Weird favor. Please don’t tell Emma yet.
Emma flinched.
“You responded?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she said it involved you.”
Sarah folded her arms.
“You’re making it sound dramatic.”
Emma turned.
“You kissed my fiancé at the front door and announced you spent five weeks together. You don’t get to complain about drama.”
Sarah went quiet.
John continued.
They met at a café near Canary Wharf.
Not a hotel.
Not a bar.
A public café.
Sarah arrived carrying a laptop and crying.
“She told me she’d made a financial mistake.”
Robert closed his eyes.
Emma noticed.
“What mistake?”
Sarah said:
“It’s none of your—”
John cut her off.
“It involved Emma’s trust.”
Silence.
Emma stared.
“My what?”
Their grandmother, Evelyn Bennett, had died when Emma was fourteen.
She left both granddaughters separate trusts.
Emma knew that.
Each sister was supposed to receive full control at twenty-five.
Until then, Robert served as trustee.
The money was intended for education, housing, and early adulthood.
Sarah’s trust had been worth approximately $180,000 after college expenses.
Emma’s was slightly more because she attended a cheaper university.
Emma rarely thought about it.
Robert sent annual summaries.
Everything looked normal.
At least to her.
John said:
“Sarah told me she needed help reversing a transfer.”
“How much?”
Nobody answered.
Emma looked directly at Sarah.
“How much?”
Sarah’s voice barely moved.
“Sixty-eight thousand.”
Emma felt the floor disappear beneath her.
“From whose account?”
Sarah looked at Robert.
Then Diane.
Neither helped.
John answered.
“Yours.”
Emma actually laughed.
One short, shocked sound.
“You took sixty-eight thousand dollars from my trust?”
Sarah snapped:
“I was going to put it back.”
“How?”
“My London investor was supposed to close.”
“What investor?”
“Beaumont Row was restarting.”
Emma stared.
“You used my inheritance to restart your failed business?”
“I borrowed it.”
“You cannot borrow something I never gave you.”
Sarah’s eyes hardened.
“You weren’t even using it.”
There it was.
The Bennett family disease.
Unused meant available.
Quiet meant agreeable.
Emma turned toward her father.
“How did she access it?”
May you like
Robert sat down.
That was when Emma knew his part was worse than she expected.
