Chapter 13 - Cracks in the Glass
"You sold her."
The words escaped my lips before I could filter them. The air was sucked out of the room. Emma gasped, stumbling back against the banister, clutching Lily so tightly the baby let out a sharp whimper.
"Sarah, no! Look at the date! Look at the account numbers!" James cried out, his face completely drained of color. He reached for the document, but I jerked it out of his reach.
"Did you take this money, James? Did you build your first architectural firm with the proceeds of selling away your firstborn child?" My voice rose, cutting through the house like shattered glass. Upstairs, the bedroom door clicked open, and I could hear the muffled, worried whispers of our three boys.
"I didn't take a single dime!" James roared, his voice cracking with desperation. He fell to his knees right there on the parquet floor, looking up at Emma with tears streaming down his face. "Emma, look at me. Look at your father. I never knew this document existed. When Claire died, Evelyn told me I was unfit, that I was a destitute college dropout who would drag Emma into poverty. She made me sign custody surrender forms under duress, but there was never any money! If two hundred and fifty thousand dollars went anywhere, it never touched my hands!"
Emma stared down at him, her lips trembling. "Then whose signature is that, Dad? That’s your handwriting. I’ve seen your sketches, your blue prints, your letters to me. That’s your signature."
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"Someone set this up," I murmured, my analytical mind fighting through the wave of betrayal. I looked closer at the paper under the hallway chandelier. "James... who handled your father's business affairs back then? When your father went bankrupt during your senior year of college?"
James’s eyes widened with sudden, horrific realization. "Uncle Thomas."
