The financial investigation eventually resulted in formal proceedings against several individuals connected to the Whitcomb businesses. Preston acknowledged knowing about disputed documents and failing to correct them.
Our divorce became final the following spring.
I didn’t receive an extraordinary settlement or suddenly become wealthy because Dad had once held a senior government position.
I kept my savings, gradually resumed work, and began restoring the everyday routines I’d once taken for granted.
Dad converted his study into a bedroom for me. Lily adapted enthusiastically to life there, mostly because he let her help prepare Saturday pancakes and never complained about colored pencils scattered across the dining table.
Rebecca continued cooperating with investigators and eventually joined a smaller accounting firm.
We maintained contact, not because friendship erased what had happened, but because we both understood how difficult honesty could be when powerful people demanded silence.
I also started counseling, learning why I’d spent years excusing Preston’s behavior and why ordinary sounds, particularly footsteps near stairs, could still unsettle me.
