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There’s thirty fucking million dollars in that fund, meant to keep Loraine, Teagan, Megan, and Shawna financially comfortable for life.
“I’m afraid so. To an undisclosed account, and then the delivering account itself was closed.”
My heart thuds like a drum. “How in the fuck was this authorized?! I didn’t sign or order a goddamn thing!”
I can hear George furiously banging away on his keyboard. “Okay, I’m bringing up the trust agreement now…right. Well, it looks like the only way to close the account or transfer funds out would be if you authorized it.”
“Exactly. So get the fucking FBI on the phone,” I growl. “Because I just got robbed.”
“Hang on.” He types again and then swears quietly under his breath.
“George…?”
“You’ve got a majority clause built into the trust declaration.”
I scowl. “A fucking what?”
“A majority clause.Iwouldn’t have included it, for the record. I already thought it was perhaps unwise to have the three beneficiaries also be listed as trustees, though perfectly legal, of course. But whoever you had working for you before—”
“What the hellisit, George?”
He exhales. “Basically, it allows for a majority number of trustees to make decisions. It’s usually there in the event of the grantor—that would be you—passing, or otherwise becoming incapable of making financial decisions regarding the trust itself. A majority in this case would have to be all three trustees aside from you—Shawna, Megan, and Loraine. We talked about adding Teagan when she turned eighteen, but we haven’t gotten to that—”
“You’re saying the three of them together signed off on emptying the fucking account?!”
“I…yeah, actually,” George says with bewilderment. “It’s literally the only way this could have—”
“I’ll call you back.”
Loraine doesn’t pick up when I call. Alarm bells are ringing in my head when I call Shawna next, and it also goes to voicemail.
What the fuck is happening.
I’m about to call Jack Dorsey, the FBI director of operations for New York,[BP1]when Loraine calls me back.
“Hey!” she says cheerily. “Wow, two calls in a week? To what do I owe this rare—”
“I need to know what the fuck is going on, Loraine.”
There’s a pause, and then she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, Castle, is everything okay?”
“No it’s not,” I snarl. “Not by amile.”
“Oh my God,” she breathes, sounding scared. “What’s happening?”
This doesn’t sound like a woman who’s just been part of a plot to steal thirty million dollars from me, unless she’s been taking acting lessons from Meryl Streep.
“Loraine, I need to ask you something.”
“Of course,” she whispers, her voice shaking.
“Has anyone forced you to sign anything recently? If someone is with you right now, just say ‘black bear’.”
“Castle, what are you talking about?!”
I exhale in relief.
“Force me to sign something? Something like what?!”
