Chapter 3 - THE MILLIONAIRES' DIRTY SECRETS EXPOSED: THE OFFSHORE WIRE TRANSFER THAT LINKED MOTHER AND FIANCÉE
The slip of paper in Adrian’s hand felt like a sheet of razor-thin ice.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
Transferred from the Westwood Family Foundation account—controlled exclusively by Margaret Westwood—into a Swiss bank account belonging to Madison Cole.
The date was clear: seventy-two hours before Claire’s car plunged through the Lake Forest guardrail.
“Explain it,” Adrian demanded, his voice echoing off the antique plaster molding of the bedroom ceiling. He stepped away from the wardrobe, holding the bank statement out toward his mother like an indictment. “You told me Madison was just a family friend. You told me she was the one who helped you pick out charity events. Why was she receiving corporate funds from you days before Claire died?”
Margaret’s composure faltered for a fraction of a second before her lifelong training as a matriarch of Chicago high society kicked back in. She raised her chin, adjusting the diamond choker around her neck.
“Companies move money around all the time, Adrian,” Margaret said, her tone dripping with icy condescension. “Philanthropy is complex. Grants, endowments, consulting fees for Madison’s public relations firm—it is corporate business, not a personal matter. You are letting grief rot your common sense.”
“Consulting fees?” Adrian stepped closer, his shadow falling over his mother. “For a boutique PR firm that didn’t even have corporate clients until you hired them? And the timing, Mother? Exactly three days before Claire called me in San Francisco to say she had something she needed to tell me about Madison?”
Madison let out a sharp, cynical laugh, finally wrenching her arm out of Natalie’s grip. She smoothed down the front of her midnight-blue silk gown, looking less like a panicked woman and more like a predator cornered in a cage.
“You really are blind, aren’t you, Adrian?” Madison sneered, her blue eyes flashing with malice. “You spent three years crying over a woman who despised your family. Claire wasn't the saint you worshiped. She was a liability.”
Natalie lunged forward, her hand cocked back. “You shut your mouth, Madison!”
Adrian intercepted his sister, catching her wrist before she could strike their guest. He didn’t take his eyes off Madison.
“Keep talking,” Adrian commanded softly.
“Gladly,” Madison said, crossing her arms. “Your precious wife found out about the foundation’s audit discrepancies. She found out that Margaret and Caleb were quietly redirecting trust funds into private real estate ventures. Claire threatened to blow the whole thing wide open to the federal authorities and ruin the Westwood name forever. She was going to file for divorce, take half your fortune, and drag your mother down with her.”
“So you bought her silence?” Adrian asked, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
“We tried to,” Margaret interjected, her voice sharp as glass. She stepped between Adrian and Madison, glaring at her son with cold disappointment. “We offered her a settlement to step aside quietly and sign a nondisclosure agreement. Madison was the intermediary. But Claire was arrogant. She thought she held all the cards.”
“And when she wouldn’t sign?” Adrian whispered, the horrible, sickening pieces clicking together in his mind with mathematical precision. “When she called me from her car to tell me the truth... what happened next?”
“She drove off the road in the middle of a torrential rainstorm,” Margaret said flatly, her eyes devoid of remorse. “Just like the police report stated. Accidents happen, Adrian. People lose control on slick pavement. It is a tragic reality of life.”
“You didn’t just let an accident happen,” Natalie said, her voice shaking with absolute horror as she looked at her mother. “Did you? Tell me you didn’t.”
Before Margaret could answer, the bedroom door swung open wider, and heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Caleb Westwood, Adrian’s younger brother, stepped into the room, looking flushed and disheveled, holding his phone in his hand.
May you like
“What the hell is going on up here?” Caleb demanded, his eyes darting from the open cedar panel to the bank statement in Adrian’s hand. Then his face went pale as he saw the red Cartier box. “Oh, God.”
“Caleb,” Adrian said, turning slowly toward his brother. “Were you part of this too?”
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