Chapter 8 - NORTHLAKE
Northlake’s $58 million facility was not fraudulent by itself.
Everwood needed refinancing.
The bank’s due diligence was strong enough to stop closing once the trust dispute surfaced.
That mattered.
Northlake was not Robert’s accomplice.
Its lawyer, Grace Chen, requested:
Independent trust accounting.
Related-party disclosure.
Revised collateral schedules.
Clarification of Silas-controlled businesses.
Silas-controlled businesses.
I looked at Maya.
“What does Silas have to do with the loan?”
Everwood owed $8.2 million to Howerin Strategic Supply.
Silas owned sixty percent.
“What does his company supply?”
“Packaging, imported hardware, promotional inventory.”
“Market prices?”
“Under review.”
Grace Nolan’s preliminary audit found some contracts above comparable rates by fifteen to twenty-eight percent.
Could be service differences.
Could be conflicted overpayment.
The board had approved related-party transactions.
But disclosure in several years was incomplete.
Robert chaired the approval meetings.
Clara abstained on some.
Not all.
Silas insisted every contract had real work.
Likely true.
The question was whether Everwood overpaid.
Northlake’s refinancing would repay the Silas company’s overdue invoices in full.
Approximately $3.1 million at closing.
Now Silas had motive for tomorrow too.
Not necessarily to humiliate Josephine.
To keep the deal moving.
The old Christmas footage became uglier in context.
Silas laughing:
“He’ll sign when he’s broke enough.”
Robert:
“He isn’t broke.”
Silas:
“He thinks he is.”
That sentence stopped me.
What did they think I believed?
After Anna died, I sold investments.
Paid medical balances.
Reduced work.
I was financially stable but cautious.
Robert repeatedly told me:
“You’re living on fumes.”
Was he trying to make me feel dependent?
The trust statements showed distributions retained rather than paid because my branch allegedly had a negative advancement balance.
Money that might have flowed to Josephine stayed inside the trust.
I had never known.
Again, not automatically stolen.
But withheld based on classifications I had never approved.
Then Maya found another document.
FAMILY REPRESENTATIVE FITNESS REVIEW.
Prepared by Robert’s private counsel.
It argued that because Josephine was a minor, I should not influence family-adviser recommendations if I demonstrated:
Financial instability.
Hostility to Everwood.
Estrangement from family.
Violent conduct.
The document was drafted six weeks before Christmas.
Before I threw the horse.
Attached:
Old angry emails.
My resignation letter.
Therapy leave after Anna’s death.
One 2024 argument with Robert.
And a blank line:
HOLIDAY INCIDENT — IF APPLICABLE.
I stared.
“They expected something.”
Maya said:
“They expected conflict.”
“Was the horse bait?”
“Possibly emotionally. We do not yet have evidence they expected you to assault Silas.”
Specific.
Always.
My own decision had helped them.
Had the police footage only shown:
Silas mocking Josephine.
Me hurling a wooden horse.
Josephine crying.
Robert’s lawyers could argue I was impulsive.
The full pre-party audio showed manipulation.
Still, no one forced my arm.
I attended my diversion intake the next morning.
The counselor asked:
“What would protecting Josephine have looked like?”
“Taking her home.”
“What did throwing the horse add?”
“Fear.”
“For whom?”
I looked away.
“Everyone.”
May you like
Including the child I claimed to protect.
That truth would matter later more than any board vote.
