“Rachel,” he wrote. “I’ve noticed some significant irregularities in your parents’ recent filings. Specifically regarding the Seaside Heights Condo. They’ve claimed it as an inheritance gift from a ‘private investor’ to build equity for a loan. I have a feeling that investor is you. We need to talk.”
I felt a cold chill. My parents hadn’t just been ungrateful; they had been using my property—the condo I allowed them to live in—as collateral for private loans they were using to fund Victoria’s lifestyle. They were committing fraud using my assets.
I called Franklin immediately. “Franklin, have they declared that condo as an asset they own in their annual tax filings?”
There was a long, heavy pause. “Yes,” he admitted. “They provided a verbal confirmation of an ‘informal trust agreement.’ Rachel, if you didn’t sign off on that, they’ve lied to the IRS and their bank.”
“I didn’t sign a thing,” I said, my voice as hard as flint. “In fact, I have the original title in my safe. It’s held entirely by Aletheia Holdings.”
“Then we have a massive problem,” Franklin sighed.
“No,” I corrected him, looking at the sunrise over the city. “They have a massive problem. I have an opportunity.”
I hung up and called my attorney, Tiffany Vance. She was a woman who viewed the law not as a set of rules, but as a surgical instrument.
“Tiffany,” I said. “It’s time. I want a full cease and desist for slander, a property reassignment filing to clarify the condo ownership, and I want to start a full audit of the Parker Family Trust.”
“The trust you’ve been funding?” Tiffany asked.
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