Chapter 2 - FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS A MONTH
Sophia weighed thirty-one pounds.
Eight pounds gone.
Dr. Rachel Kim did not call it starvation immediately.
She called it:
“Concerning weight loss requiring explanation.”
She documented dehydration.
Low iron.
Healing bruises along both shins.
A small abrasion near the right ankle.
No fracture.
No head trauma.
No acute internal injury.
Her feet had superficial cuts from walking barefoot.
“When did she last eat?” Rachel asked me.
“I don’t know.”
That answer almost made me vomit.
“You’ve been away?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Four months this trip. I came back twice.”
“How recently?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Did you see Sophia?”
“For twenty minutes.”
Rachel stopped writing.
“Why only twenty?”
“My mother said longer visits destabilized her grief therapy.”
I heard the sentence after saying it.
How absurd it sounded.
I had flown fourteen hours to see my daughter.
Then accepted twenty minutes because Victoria told me a grief counselor recommended it.
“Did you speak to the counselor?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Mom handled appointments.”
Rachel wrote again.
No accusation.
She did not need one.
Detective Lena Ortiz arrived after midnight.
She was thirty-two, compact, calm, and uninterested in the Sterling surname.
Good.
I told her about the gala.
Including the slap.
“You struck Victoria Sterling?”
“Yes.”
“Was she threatening you?”
“She reached for Sophia.”
“Did she have a weapon?”
“No.”
“Was Sophia in immediate danger when you struck her?”
I looked down.
“No.”
There.
My anger had crossed into retaliation.
Ortiz wrote it.
“Your conduct will be reviewed separately.”
“I understand.”
I did.
I hated it.
But I understood.
Then we discussed the money.
Five months after Elena died, I established a household care transfer:
$50,000 monthly.
Not to Victoria personally.
To Sterling Family Care LLC.
Administrator:
Victoria Sterling.
Purpose:
Sophia’s care.
Household staff allocated to Sophia.
Medical and therapeutic expenses.
Travel.
Education.
Security.
I had sent $250,000.
“How much was spent on Sophia?” Ortiz asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who receives statements?”
“My family office.”
“Do you review them?”
I hesitated.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Who does?”
“My CFO receives reports.”
“Name?”
“Peter Vale.”
“Can we contact him?”
“Yes.”
I called Peter at 1:17 a.m.
He answered on the second ring.
“Alexander?”
“Freeze every discretionary payment from Sterling Family Care.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“Do it.”
“Done.”
“And send Ortiz every statement for the last six months.”
Another silence.
“Police?”
“Yes.”
Peter’s voice changed.
“I’ll cooperate.”
At 2:10, he called back.
“Alexander.”
“What?”
“There’s a problem.”
“How much?”
“The care account spent almost everything.”
“On what?”
He hesitated.
“Most of it didn’t go to Sophia.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where?”
“Sterling Legacy Foundation.”
The gala.
The same foundation holding a black-tie celebration while my daughter dug through trash behind its ballroom.
“How much?”
“Roughly one hundred eighty-six thousand dollars.”
“Transferred from Sophia’s care account?”
“Yes.”
“Authorized by?”
Peter went quiet.
“Victoria.”
I looked through the hospital glass.
Sophia slept curled beneath two blankets.
“Anything else?”
“Forty-one thousand went to Sterling Crown Hospitality.”
My mother’s private hotel-development company.
“And Sophia?”
“Direct child expenses I can identify so far are under eleven thousand.”
Five months.
Two hundred fifty thousand sent.
Less than eleven thousand spent on my daughter.
Ortiz asked:
“Does Victoria own Sterling Crown?”
“Seventy percent.”
“Financial condition?”
“I need to check.”
Peter answered before I could.
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
“Alexander… Sterling Crown has a debt payment due in eighteen days.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-two million.”
I looked at Sophia.
May you like
The money was no longer merely missing.
It was flowing toward something desperate.
