The Price of Betrayal and the Business of Reclaiming My Life
I pointed to a recurring transaction on the second page.
“These are transfers to an entity called Crestview Holdings,” I noted.
“Exactly,” Sarah said.
“And who authorized those transfers?”
I turned the page to the signature block at the bottom of the ledger.
The ink was faded, but the handwriting was unmistakable.
It was not Daniel’s signature.
It was a sharp, looping script that I had seen on dozens of family checks.
Richard Carter.
“His father,” I whispered.
“Richard signed off on these as a financial advisor for the restructuring,” Sarah said.
“But Richard retired from the bank five years ago,” I said.
“On paper, yes,” Sarah replied.
“In reality, he was managing the restructuring of his son’s company.”
I rubbed my temples, trying to clear the fog of exhaustion.
“Why would Richard do that?”
“Look at where the Crestview Holdings money went next,” Sarah said.
She pointed to a routing number that began with a foreign country code.
“That is a bank in the Cayman Islands,” she said.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Richard helped him hide the assets,” I said.