Chapter 3 - Serena Wanted Ethan’s Care to Look More Expensive Than It Was
Victor hired an outside accountant the next morning.
Not one from his company.
Someone completely separate.
That mattered.
Blackwood money was complicated.
Victor had inherited part of his father’s commercial real-estate business, then built a software company of his own.
He was wealthy.
Wealthy enough that small leaks could remain invisible.
We found the first one quickly.
SM Pediatric Services LLC had received $28,800 over four months.
The payments were described internally as Ethan’s care expenses.
Serena controlled the company.
“What did she spend it on?” Victor asked.
The accountant shook his head.
“That requires records we don’t currently have.”
Victor rubbed his face.
“I gave her access because she handled the house.”
He said it quietly.
Not to defend himself.
To identify his own mistake.
Serena returned to the mansion with an attorney that afternoon.
Victor did not allow her direct access to Ethan.
She was furious.
“He’s my stepson.”
“He’s injured.”
“Because of Claire.”
Victor stared at her.
“We watched the footage.”
Serena’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
Then:
“You saw one moment.”
“I saw you dragging a toddler by an injured arm.”
“He was having a tantrum.”
“I saw you kick Claire.”
“She interfered.”
Victor laughed without humor.
“Do you hear yourself?”
Serena’s attorney interrupted before she answered.
Good.
The adults could fight through lawyers.
Ethan did not need to hear it.
I took him upstairs.
He held his injured arm close to his chest.
“Daddy mad?”
“Yes.”
“Claire mad?”
“A little.”
He thought about that.
“Rena mad.”
Rena.
That was what he called Serena.
“Why was Serena mad?”
I almost stopped myself from asking.
He was two.
Two-year-olds could repeat fragments without understanding context.
So I kept it simple.
“What happened before your arm hurt?”
He pointed toward the hallway.
“Blue room.”
The blue room was Serena’s private sitting room.
“Were you in there?”
He nodded.
“What did you do?”
“Paper.”
My stomach tightened.
“What paper?”
He held out his good hand.
“Mommy.”
I froze.
“Mommy’s paper?”
He nodded.
Laura.
Something belonging to his dead mother had been inside Serena’s room.
That night, Victor opened a locked fireproof document box that had once belonged to Laura.
It was stored in his study.
One folder was missing.
The label:
ETHAN — DEVELOPMENTAL CARE PLAN / TRUST DISBURSEMENTS.
Victor looked at me.
“Serena told me Laura’s attorney took this.”
“Did you verify that?”
He closed his eyes.
“No.”
The therapy payments suddenly looked less like household skimming.
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Laura had apparently created a dedicated structure for Ethan’s care.
And Serena had found the paperwork.
