Chapter 4: The Accountant's Warning
The man introduced himself as Arthur Pendelton, though he didn't offer a business card until he had checked the shadows outside to make sure the main house was out of sight. He pulled a folded sheet of heavy cream stationery from his inner pocket and pressed it into my hand. The paper felt different from anything we had in the house—thick, expensive, and smelling faintly of dry office air.
"Listen to me carefully, son," Pendelton said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that barely carried over the rustle of the horses. "I’ve been auditing the regional agricultural grants for the county board. Your stepmother has filed eighteen separate disbursement requests under your mother's legacy trust over the last three years."
I gripped the paper tightly, the corner digging into my palm. "I know she manages the accounts."
"She doesn't just manage them, Ethan," Pendelton said, his gaze hardening behind his thick lenses. "She’s liquidating them. If those funds are fully depleted before you turn eighteen, the legal standing of this entire property defaults to her sole ownership. Your father signed a general power of attorney three years ago during his corporate merger. He thinks she's investing in livestock improvement. She's not."
Before I could process the full weight of his words, the heavy front gate of the property creaked open. A familiar low hum echoed up the drive—Richard’s town car had arrived early.
Pendelton’s face went pale. He snatched a blank notebook from his briefcase, pretending to flip through pages as heavy gravel footsteps crunched outside the barn door.
"Pendelton?" Margaret’s voice rang out, sharp and melodic, carrying easily across the open yard. "Is everything alright down here? The county office said your department wasn't due until next month."
The accountant didn't flinch, but his fingers trembled slightly as he tucked his pen into his pocket. "Just finishing up the routine boundary check, Mrs. Vance. The boy was showing me the drainage ditch behind the paddock."
Margaret appeared in the doorway, her green jacket replaced by a tailored cream cardigan, her red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked from Pendelton to me, her gaze lingering on the slight space between us where my hand still held the heavy stationery.
"How efficient of you," Margaret said smoothly, stepping inside and closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate grace. "Though I wasn't aware the county sent auditors out without prior scheduling through my husband's office."
"Standard procedure following the recent zoning revisions," Pendelton replied smoothly, though he didn't meet her eyes directly. "I'll be on my way now. Good day, Mrs. Vance. Good day, Ethan."
He walked past her without looking back, his shoes crunching steadily down the drive until the engine of his sedan turned over and he disappeared down the county road. Margaret stood in the center of the barn for a long moment, the silence between us stretching like a tightened wire.
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"What did he give you?" she asked softly.
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