Chapter 21 - The Money Trail
The failed transfer became the prosecution’s clearest financial timeline.
At 8:14 a.m., Vincent initiated a request to move $3.8 million from a Harrington property reserve account into a North Harbor-controlled escrow account.
At 8:19, Edward’s authorization was submitted.
Forged.
At 8:26, Nia’s second-factor approval came from her phone.
She had been upstairs showering.
Vincent had been in the kitchen.
At 8:31, the bank’s fraud system stopped the transfer because the transaction was inconsistent with Edward’s prior activity.
At 8:42, Vincent called the bank.
He impersonated Edward badly enough that the employee refused to proceed.
At 9:03, Vincent called Claire’s funeral home.
At 9:17, he contacted Graham Vale.
At 9:52, he accessed Dr. Kline’s information.
At 12:46, he entered the memorial room.
The chronology destroyed Vincent’s claim that the coffin incident resulted from panic over a sudden medical crisis.
The money attempt came first.
The staged death came after.
Bell showed the sequence to Nia and Edward.
Edward selected:
“He needed death to unlock transfer.”
Bell nodded.
“That is the prosecution theory.”
Graham Vale confirmed it.
North Harbor needed money that day.
Not next week.
Not eventually.
That day.
A creditor had threatened legal action by close of business.
Vincent believed Edward’s supposed death would allow him to override the blocked transfer using trust succession documents.
He was wrong legally.
But he believed confusion and forged paperwork would buy enough time.
Caroline Vale’s role also became clearer.
She had supplied signature samples.
She had helped Vincent identify old law-firm templates.
She knew he intended to manufacture a succession event.
And her texts showed she knew Edward remained alive during the coffin incident.
Graham’s cooperation agreement required him to plead guilty to financial crimes and testify truthfully.
He would still face prison.
Caroline refused any deal.
Vincent refused too.
At first.
Then prosecutors disclosed the hidden-camera footage to the defense.
Two days later, negotiations began.
Nia learned about them from the victim advocate.
Vincent might plead guilty to a package of serious charges.
Attempted murder-related liability remained heavily contested, and the final plea structure would depend on judicial approval.
Nia’s first reaction surprised her.
“No.”
Edward looked at her.
She paced the rehabilitation suite.
“He should go to trial.”
Edward selected:
“Why?”
“Because everyone should hear what he did.”
“They already know.”
“That’s not the same.”
Edward waited.
Nia stopped.
She understood his question was not legal.
It was personal.
Why did she need a trial?
“For him to admit it.”
Edward selected:
“He may never admit meaning.”
Nia looked at him.
“He can admit acts.”
“Yes.”
“But not why.”
“No.”
She sat down.
A trial would not force Vincent to become honest.
It would force evidence into public view.
That could matter.
But it would also require Edward to relive the coffin repeatedly.
Require Nia to hear every private message.
Require defense lawyers to attack credibility.
There was no morally perfect outcome.
Only choices with costs.
Edward typed:
“I want certainty.”
“You want the plea?”
“If sentence is serious.”
Nia looked at him.
“What about Caroline?”
“Separate.”
“What about Graham?”
“He cooperated because afraid.”
“Yes.”
“You still want him punished.”
“Yes.”
“But less than Vincent?”
Edward took time.
“Different choices. Different consequences.”
That was Edward again.
Architecture.
Structure.
Distinctions.
Nia had once hated that.
Now she saw how it could also protect truth from emotion.
The civil side moved faster.
The fraudulent deed was formally voided after the notary evidence, video, and forensic examination went unchallenged by Vincent’s civil counsel.
The mansion returned indisputably to Edward.
The attempted $3.8 million transfer was blocked permanently.
North Harbor entered insolvency proceedings.
Several investors sued.
The $4.6 million debt that had driven Vincent’s panic no longer mattered in the way he intended.
He had tried to kill for a financial hole that still swallowed everything.
Nia filed her own divorce petition.
Not as retaliation.
As recognition.
Her lawyer asked whether she wanted the house she had shared with Vincent.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to spend years fighting over furniture.”
She requested her personal property, financial restitution where appropriate, and protection from fraudulent debts.
The marriage itself would end.
That was enough.
One evening, Nia returned to Edward’s mansion with him for the first time.
The memorial room was empty.
Police had removed the coffin as evidence.
The flowers were gone.
Only pale rectangles on the marble showed where arrangements had stood.
Edward stopped at the doorway.
His breathing changed.
Nia crouched beside him.
“We can leave.”
He stared into the room.
Then selected:
“No.”
She waited.
He entered.
Slowly.
His wheelchair rolled across the same marble where the forged document had fallen.
He stopped at the place where the coffin had been.
Nia said nothing.
After a long silence, Edward typed:
“Open curtains.”
She crossed the room and pulled apart the deep emerald drapes.
Late-afternoon sunlight flooded the space.
For the first time, the room did not look like a funeral.
Edward closed his eyes.
Then a notification sounded on Nia’s phone.
A message from the victim advocate.
Vincent wanted to speak with her before entering a plea.
Nia stared at the request.
Her father watched her.
She could refuse.
She almost did.
Then she remembered Vincent’s words at court.
You know me.
Nia looked at the empty place where the coffin had been.
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“No,” she whispered.
“I think I finally want to hear what he says when he can’t control the room.”
