He also asked whether the beneficiary was safe.
Richard looked toward the sitting room.
“My daughter is with me.”
The attorney paused.
“Is she receiving appropriate care?”
Richard swallowed.
“I'm arranging a medical appointment.”
A long silence followed.
Then the lawyer spoke quietly.
“Your first wife was very particular about protecting that child.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“I remember.”
The attorney continued.
“She wanted the trust available for legitimate needs during childhood and preserved for her daughter's future.”
Richard nodded.
“I know.”
The lawyer's voice became firmer.
“Then we'll need to understand exactly what happened to the money.”
Richard stared at the statement.
“And if it was stolen?”
“Then we'll pursue the appropriate legal remedies. But first, we establish the facts.”
Richard nodded slowly.
For the first time in years, he felt grateful that his first wife had insisted on proper records.
She had anticipated ordinary risks.
Errors.
Bad investments.
Financial mismanagement.
She could not have anticipated every act of dishonesty.
But the safeguards she put in place might help uncover what happened.
Before ending the call, the attorney asked one final question.
“Richard, why did your daughter have the statements?”
He swallowed.
“She found them hidden.”
The lawyer was silent.
Richard continued.
“She kept them inside her shoe because she was afraid someone would destroy them.”
The attorney exhaled slowly.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then the lawyer said, with unmistakable sorrow, “Her mother would be heartbroken.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“I know.”
The lawyer continued.
“But she'd also want somebody to take care of that girl now.”
Richard looked toward the doorway.
His daughter had begun laughing softly at something her stepsister said.
It was such a small sound.
He could barely remember the last time he heard it.
He swallowed.
“I'm going to.”
The stepmother did not remain in the house that night.
After a long discussion involving the father and legal counsel, she agreed to leave temporarily.
She took several personal items.
Her handbag.
Her phone.
A change of clothes.
And a small suitcase.
Her daughter watched from the hallway.
The child in pink had changed into ordinary clothes.
Her tiara rested on a table.
The glittering shoes were gone.
For the first time all day, she looked like a frightened ten-year-old rather than a princess posing for photographs.
Her mother approached.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
The girl looked toward her stepsister.
Then toward the father.
“Where are we going?”
Her mother swallowed.
“To Grandma's.”
The girl stared.
“Why?”
The woman looked toward the father.
He remained quiet.
He knew he was not the birthday girl's legal father and could not simply dictate where she lived.
But he also knew she needed a safe, supportive adult while the situation was assessed.
Her maternal grandmother had agreed to receive her that evening.
The girl looked toward her mother.
“Did you take her money?”
The stepmother froze.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then the woman crouched.