Part 3: The Price of Greed
Three weeks passed. The atmosphere in Oakhaven Heights underwent a miraculous transformation. The sterile, suffocating smell of medicine was entirely gone, replaced by the scent of lavender, baked bread, and real life. Finnian had drastically cut his hours at the firm, choosing to work from the mansion’s study.
For the first time in years, he had dinner with his mother every night. Elodie sat with them, initially reluctant, but Helena insisted. Finnian watched Elodie laugh at his mother's old stories, her smile bright and genuine, filling the hollow spaces of the giant house. He found himself looking forward to those dinners, looking forward to the way Elodie's eyes crinkled when she was happy. He was learning what it meant to be a son, and perhaps, something more.
But peace in a wealthy house rarely lasts.
One afternoon, a black luxury sedan pulled up the driveway. Out stepped Isabel, accompanied by a tall, stern man in a tailored suit—Arthur Vance, the O'Sullivan family’s long-time estate lawyer.
Finnian met them in the foyer, his expression guarded. "Isabel. Arthur. What is the meaning of this?"
Isabel smirked, crossing her arms. "I'm here to protect this family from a predator, Finnian. Arthur, show him."
The lawyer sighed, pulling a stack of financial documents from his briefcase. "Finnian... we have a problem. An anonymous audit was triggered on your mother’s personal accounts yesterday. Over the past two months, there have been consecutive cash withdrawals totaling nearly fifty thousand dollars. All signed by your mother, but the bank slips show they were cashed by Elodie Rivers."
Finnian froze. "That's impossible."
"It's right here," Isabel gloated, her eyes gleeful. "The saintly Elodie is bleeding your mother dry. She used her sob story to get into Helena’s good graces, got her to sign blank checks, and has been hoarding the cash. I told you she was a fraud!"
Just then, Elodie walked into the foyer carrying a tray of tea. Hearing Isabel’s screeching voice, she stopped, her face draining of color as she saw the bank documents in the lawyer's hand.
"Elodie," Finnian said, his heart heavy, desperate for her to deny it. "Tell me this isn't true."
Elodie looked at the documents, then at Finnian. Her silence was deafening. "I... I did cash those checks, Mr. O'Sullivan."
Isabel gasped in mock horror. "You see! She admits it! Call the police, Finnian!"
"Why, Elodie?" Finnian stepped closer, his voice pleading. "Tell me why. I gave you everything you asked for. Why would you steal from my mother?"
Elodie’s eyes welled with tears, but she clenched her jaw, refusing to speak. "I can't tell you, sir. But I swear on my mother's grave, I did not steal it for myself."
"Save it for the judge!" Isabel hissed.
Before Finnian could call for security, Helena’s voice rang out from the elevator. "She didn't steal it. I gave it to her."
Helena wheeled herself forward, her eyes fixed on Isabel with absolute disgust. "And I know exactly who triggered that audit. It was you, Isabel, because you still have access to the secondary account notifications from when you were handling my scheduling."
"Helena, she’s conning you!" Isabel argued.
"No, she is protecting my legacy!" Helena shouted, her weak chest heaving. "Finnian... that money didn't go to Elodie. It went to Saint Jude’s Hospice Care—the clinic that cared for Elodie’s mother. I found out the clinic was facing foreclosure. I wanted to donate anonymously. I asked Elodie to withdraw the cash and deliver it personally because I didn't want the O’Sullivan foundation’s name attached to a private gift. I wanted it to be from one mother to another."
The foyer fell into absolute silence. Arthur Vance lowered his papers, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
Helena looked at her son. "Elodie kept quiet just now because she promised me she wouldn't let you know how much I was thinking about death and legacy. She was protecting my wishes, even when you doubted her."
Finnian looked at Elodie, a wave of profound shame washing over him. He had doubted her, even after everything she had shown him about her character.
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"Arthur," Finnian said, his voice cold as steel. "File a restraining order against Isabel Vance. If she steps foot on Oakhaven property again, have her arrested for trespassing. And Isabel? If you ever breathe Elodie's name in this city again, I will personally buy out your father's firm and dismantle it piece by piece. Get out."
Isabel’s face went white. Realizing she had lost everything, she turned on her heels and stormed out, her heels clicking furiously against the marble.
