Chapter 4 - The Bennett Family Table
The Bennett estate in Brookline looked exactly as Laura remembered it.
Gray stone.
Black shutters.
White columns.
Money designed to look older than the country.
Thomas stopped at the gates.
“I’ve been here.”
Laura turned.
“When?”
“I don’t know. I was little.”
Emily looked at him.
“With Marlene?”
Thomas nodded.
“Once.”
Detective Ruiz had advised Laura not to confront the Bennetts privately.
Laura compromised.
Sarah came.
Two investigators waited outside.
Thomas insisted on entering.
“I want to see who lied.”
Laura could not deny him.
Eleanor Bennett sat at the dining table.
Seventy-nine.
Silver hair pinned perfectly.
Pearls at her throat.
Charles stood near the fireplace.
He was fifty-two now, broader than James had been, colder in the face.
His signet ring remained on his right hand.
Thomas saw it.
His breathing stopped.
Charles noticed.
“What?”
Thomas stepped backward.
“You.”
Laura moved between them.
Charles laughed once.
“This is insane.”
Thomas pointed.
“You came to the house.”
“No.”
“You brought envelopes.”
“No.”
“You talked to Marlene in the kitchen.”
Charles turned toward Laura.
“You brought a disturbed street kid into my mother’s home and coached him.”
Thomas’s face tightened.
Laura slapped one palm against the table.
“Say that again.”
Eleanor flinched.
Charles did not.
“You have no proof this boy is Thomas.”
Sarah placed the hospital bracelet inside an evidence sleeve on the table.
“Marlene Cross worked at St. Matthew’s.”
Charles’s eyes flicked toward it.
Just once.
Sarah saw.
So did Laura.
Eleanor whispered, “Where did he get that?”
Laura slowly turned.
“You recognize it.”
“No.”
“You asked where he got it.”
Eleanor looked away.
Thomas spoke.
His voice was small.
“Did you know me?”
Eleanor’s face changed.
For one second, she looked like a grandmother.
Then the Bennett mask returned.
“You resemble James.”
Thomas swallowed.
“I asked if you knew me.”
Charles interrupted.
“Enough.”
Thomas looked at him.
“You told Marlene I couldn’t go outside.”
Charles stepped forward.
Laura blocked him.
“Stay there.”
Charles smiled.
“You’re frightened of me now?”
“I’m frightened of what I don’t know yet.”
“That’s always been your problem. You mistake ignorance for innocence.”
Laura went still.
“What does that mean?”
Eleanor whispered, “Charles.”
He ignored her.
“Ask James.”
Thomas’s face crumpled.
“He’s dead.”
Charles looked at him.
“Yes.”
Laura’s voice sharpened.
“Don’t use his father against him.”
“His father signed documents.”
“What documents?”
Charles smiled.
There it was again.
Something he believed gave him power.
Sarah said, “Show us.”
“No.”
“Then stop implying.”
Charles poured himself water.
“The Bennett family spent nine years protecting this company from catastrophe.”
Laura stared.
“By stealing my son?”
Charles’s eyes hardened.
“You don’t know what happened.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
Thomas suddenly looked toward the hallway.
A large family portrait hung there.
James.
Charles.
Eleanor.
And their late father, Robert Bennett, founder of Bennett Development Group.
Thomas walked closer.
Robert’s hand rested on six-year-old Thomas’s shoulder.
The photograph had been taken two months before St. Matthew’s.
Thomas touched the glass.
“I remember him.”
Eleanor’s composure cracked.
“He adored you.”
“Then why did you let everyone think I was dead?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Charles said, “Mother doesn’t have to answer that.”
Laura turned.
“She does.”
Eleanor whispered, “Thomas was the principal beneficiary of Robert’s voting trust.”
Sarah looked at her sharply.
Laura frowned.
“What?”
James had told Laura Thomas inherited “family shares someday.”
Nothing more.
Eleanor continued.
“Robert gave Thomas thirty percent of Bennett Holdings voting equity in trust.”
Laura stared at her son.
Charles’s jaw tightened.
“Mother.”
Eleanor kept going.
“If Thomas died before eighteen, temporary voting control reverted to the managing trustee.”
Sarah asked, “Who?”
Everyone looked at Charles.
Laura felt sick.
“You gained control because Thomas was declared dead.”
Charles laughed.
“Temporary control. Not ownership.”
“Worth how much?”
Sarah answered.
“At current valuations? The underlying interest is worth approximately eighty-four million dollars.”
Thomas stared.
“I have eighty-four million dollars?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Not cash. Trust equity. And whether it remains intact requires review.”
He looked overwhelmed.
Laura did not care about the money.
She cared about the timing.
“When Thomas died on paper, Charles gained his votes.”
Eleanor said nothing.
Laura turned toward her.
“You knew.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“I knew what the documents did.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Thomas whispered, “Grandma?”
Eleanor broke at the word.
Charles slammed his glass down.
“This meeting is over.”
Laura faced him.
“No. It’s beginning.”
Her phone buzzed.
Detective Ruiz.
She had found Gerald Pike, the retired family attorney.
Alive.
Living in Rhode Island.
And willing to talk.
Laura showed Sarah.
Charles saw the name.
For the first time, his confidence disappeared.
He reached for his phone.
Sarah noticed.
“Who are you calling?”
Charles looked at her.
“No one.”
But outside, one of the detectives received an alert.
May you like
Gerald Pike’s home security alarm had just activated.
Someone had arrived there before them.
