With each highlighted line, my resolve strengthened. The financial trail was like a puzzle, each piece critical to the larger picture. “This doesn’t make sense,” my friend said, pointing to a sizable transfer. “Was this discussed with your parent?”
I shook my head, the reality settling in my chest. “Not to my knowledge,” I admitted. It was clear that my sibling had been operating with a level of autonomy that bordered on control.
As the conversation continued, my phone buzzed again. Another message from my sibling, this time a request to meet. The timing felt strategic, almost as if they sensed the unraveling of their carefully constructed façade.
“What are you going to do?” my friend asked, their gaze steady on mine.
I sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down. “I need to talk to them,” I said, “but not until I have all the facts.” It was a strategy born of necessity, a plan to confront the reality with evidence in hand.
That evening, I drafted an email to Mr. Caldwell, requesting a detailed breakdown of the accounts and decisions made under the power of attorney. It was a formal step, but a necessary one, a way to ensure that the truth was documented and undeniable.
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