Chapter 4 - The Audit of the Desert
The Bayside Grand Hotel was a massive stone structure overlooking the bay, the kind of place where the rooms cost more per night than Sarah’s father had made in a month at the old shipyard. When I walked into Suite 404, the room smelled of fresh chicken broth, warm bread, and lavender soap.
Jamie was asleep on the king-sized bed, his small face buried in a plush white pillow, a half-eaten plate of grilled chicken and mashed potatoes sitting on the nightstand beside him. He looked peaceful, but even in sleep, his fingers were curled tightly into the fabric of the hotel robe.
Sarah sat by the window, watching the dark water of the bay. She had showered, her hair damp and smelling of clover, but the green velvet robe she wore only emphasized how thin her collarbones were.
I sat down on the edge of the chair opposite her, my hands resting on my knees. “The doctor?” I asked.
“He came,” Sarah said, her voice cracking slightly as she looked at me. “He said Jamie is malnourished but structurally fine. He needs vitamins, rest, and real food. He said... he said another two months in that kitchen and his bones would have started to deform from the lack of vitamin D.”
I covered my face with my hands, the tears finally breaking through the dry crust of my eyes. The sound that came out of me wasn't a human cry; it was a rough, scraping rattle from a chest that had swallowed too much sand and too many lies.
“Why didn't you write to the company, Sarah?” I asked through my fingers. “Why didn't you send an email to the corporate office in Al-Khobar? I had my address listed on the main insurance form.”
“Gertrude intercepted the mail, David,” Sarah said, her eyes turning flat and old. “She told me you had changed companies. She said you were living in a private compound where civilians couldn't send letters. And when I tried to use the internet, Prudence changed the router password on the house system. They told the neighbors I was a distant relative who was helping with the cleaning because I lost my mind after my parents died.”
She stood up, walking over to me, her small, thin hands reaching down to pull my face up from my palms. Her thumbs traced the dark circles under my eyes, the deep lines that five years of working twelve-hour shifts in sixty-degree humidity had left behind.
“I didn't believe them at first,” she whispered. “But after three years without a single letter from you... after my phone was broken and they refused to replace it... I looked at Jamie, and I realized that if I fought them, they would put us on the street. I had no money, David. No family left. I had to stay in the back kitchen just to make sure he got the scraps from their table.”
“I sent ninety-seven thousand dollars over five years, Sarah,” I said, the words tasting like poison in my mouth. “Ninety-seven thousand dollars directly to Gertrude’s account for 'household distribution.' I kept twenty percent for the material costs of the construction, and the rest was supposed to be yours.”
Sarah gave a short, bitter laugh. “Prudence bought a new Mercedes last summer, David. She told me it was a gift from one of her suitors. Gertrude went to Paris for three weeks in 2025. They told the church group they were using their personal inheritance.”
I stood up, the absolute scale of the fraud settling into my mind. This wasn't just a domestic dispute; it was a calculated, long-term asset stripping operation carried out by the people who had given me life against the woman who had given me a son.
“Tomorrow morning, I’m meeting with Arthur Pendelton,” I said.
Sarah looked up. “The family lawyer?”
“No,” I said, looking out at the dark bay. “Pendelton is my mother’s friend. He’s the one who drafted the house deed while I was in the air over the Atlantic. I’m hiring Marcus Vance.”
May you like
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Your uncle? The one Gertrude cut off ten years ago?”
“The very one,” I said. “He’s the premier forensic accountant and corporate attorney in the state. If my mother spent a single dollar of my son’s food money on her silk dresses, Marcus will find the receipt. And then we’re going to take everything back.”
