Chapter 3
Posy did not want another birthday cake.
Benedict offered.
She shook her head.
He offered to take her somewhere else.
No.
He offered a smaller party with only three friends.
Posy looked down.
“No birthday.”
That frightened him more than Margaux’s threat.
“She ruined one birthday,” Benedict said gently. “She doesn’t own birthdays.”
Posy rubbed a frosting stain that remained on one shoe.
“Aunt Margaux said Grandpa would be embarrassed I had one.”
Benedict became still.
“When?”
Posy immediately looked nervous.
He remembered the child psychologist who helped Posy after Elizabeth died.
Do not interrogate children because adults need certainty.
So Benedict changed the question.
“How did that make you feel?”
“Like Grandpa didn’t like me.”
“He loved you.”
“How do you know?”
Benedict swallowed.
Because Victor had been emotionally difficult.
He loved his granddaughter.
He was also terrible at saying it.
Posy remembered a stern old man who brought expensive books and corrected table manners.
Not warmth.
Benedict said:
“I know because he made sure you would be taken care of after he died.”
Posy looked at him.
“Aunt Margaux says Cecily gets it.”
“She was wrong.”
That answer Benedict could give confidently.
Later, the longtime house manager, Denise Walker, asked to speak privately.
“She’s been saying things to Posy for months.”
Benedict looked at her.
“What things?”
“That the Carrows recognize blood through the male line.”
“That isn’t even true.”
“I know.”
“That Posy’s mother wasn’t born into the right kind of family.”
Benedict’s jaw tightened.
Elizabeth had grown up middle class.
Her father taught high-school history.
Her mother ran a dental office.
Margaux had always treated that background as an embarrassing detail Benedict should have outgrown.
Denise continued.
“Mrs. Margaux also takes packages from Posy’s room.”
“What packages?”
“Family-office deliveries.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said she was managing the trust expenses for you.”
Again.
His delegation.
His authority.
Used as cover.
Denise looked ashamed.
“I should’ve checked.”
“So should I.”
That surprised her.
Benedict continued.
“From now on, anything involving Posy comes directly to me and Grant. No family intermediary.”
That afternoon Grant sent the first preliminary accounting.
One line immediately stood out.
Over eighteen months, Posy’s trust had reimbursed nearly eighty thousand dollars for clothing and accessories.
Benedict stared at the number.
Posy wore school uniforms, ordinary dresses, sneakers, and a few formal outfits.
He knew expensive children’s clothing could become ridiculous.
Eighty thousand dollars was something else.
May you like
Grant said:
“I think we need to see where the merchandise went.”
