Chapter 3 - The Country Club Syndicate
The handwriting in Dad's ledger was meticulous, arrogant, and sickeningly thorough.
Under the first week of June, he had written: Judge Harrison – $9,500 cash. Keep master suite locked. Tell Kendall we're having plumbing work done.
Under the fourth of July: Dr. Patterson – $14,000. Use Kendall’s yacht charter account. Split 60/40 with Melissa.
My hands trembled with pure, unfiltered rage as I turned the pages.
They had been planning this operation since before the foundation on my guest house was even poured.
They didn't see me as a daughter or a sister who had clawed her way up from seventy-hour workweeks to build financial independence.
To them, I was just a corporate ATM with a nice ocean view they felt entitled to milk dry.
My laptop chimed with an incoming encrypted file from Carter.
Attached was a certified copy of the online host profile Melissa had created under the alias "Carolina Coastal Escapes LLC."
The primary contact email wasn't Melissa's.
It was my father's personal AOL address.
And the linked bank account where the eighty-thousand-dollar advance had been deposited was a joint trust held by my parents and Kyle.
Before I could process the sheer scale of the betrayal, my doorbell rang.
I checked my security monitor and saw a polished silver Mercedes parked behind my security gate.
Standing on the porch was Evelyn Harrison, the wife of the superior court judge Dad had listed on page four of his little black book.
I walked to the front door, leaving the security chain latched.
"Can I help you?" I asked through the opening.
Evelyn offered a tight, patronizing smile, adjusting her designer sunglasses.
"Kendall, darling! Your father told us we could drop off our jet skis and luggage early before the weekend rush."
"My father doesn't own this property, Mrs. Harrison," I replied smoothly.
Her smile vanished, replaced by an offended scowl.
"Excuse me? Richard assured us this rental arrangement was fully approved by the family trust. We paid eight thousand dollars upfront!"
"Then you should call my father and demand a refund," I said, holding up Dad’s leather ledger so she could see his handwriting through the glass.
"Because as of five o'clock this morning, this property is under federal fraud investigation."
Evelyn's mouth dropped open in absolute horror.
"A fraud investigation? Are you insane? Do you have any idea who my husband is?"
"I know exactly who he is," I answered calmly. "And I'm sure the state ethics commission would love to know why a sitting judge is paying undocumented cash for an illegal vacation rental."
She gasped, stepped backward off the porch, and fumbled for her phone.
May you like
"You tell your father he has two hours to wire our money back before Arthur gets the district attorney on the phone!"
"Have a lovely day at the beach, Mrs. Harrison," I said, and closed the door firmly in her face.
