Falsehood: A short story by Shubricca L Bell. (Pt.4)

“It didn’t make sense to me either at the time baby, but your father was under a lot of stress and pressure. Maybe he did die of an accidental drug overdose. I don’t know. I mean, I never knew that he used any drugs, but he was dealing with a lot, and sadly that’s how many people cope with life. It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. We’d talk, but obviously I didn’t know the extent of what he was going through. He was a genius, but he’d put every dollar we made into building Eboda Tech, and we were broke. He had a brief falling out with his best friend, Mr. Bennet. Certain individuals were pressuring him to sell Eboda Tech, and he didn’t want to sell. Although it was still small, your father was devoted to that company. It was his passion, and he took pride and joy in the work he did. He wasn’t going to allow someone to come along and take credit for something that took his blood, sweat, tears and years of building. Anyway, just leave this situation alone. You can’t trust that what Kerrie’s saying, is true. She’s probably had someone make this so called will up, just so you’ll go after the Bennet’s. I never knew about a will. Listen, the Bennet’s has been good to us. Haven’t they always taken care of us?” Mrs. Abimbola said, to an anxious Kacely on the other end of the phone. “I guess, momma, but that company is our legacy. They’ve only given us scraps, compared to what we really deserve, if what Kerrie’s saying is true,” Kacely said. “Aht, no. Don’t get greedy. Greed will cause you to fall into a pit you cannot get out of. I’m telling you, if you pursue this lawsuit against the Bennet’s, concerning Eboda Tech, it will not turn out good for any of us. You, me or Jakayla. Think about Jakayla,” Mrs. Abimbola said. “Mom, Jakayla’s exactly who I’m thinking about. I don’t want her to get what they decide to give her, I want her to have everything she deserves. What if these people are as corrupt as Kerrie’s saying? I don’t think she’d make this stuff up. She’s filed for divorce because she’s tired of keeping these corrupt secrets,” Kacely said. “Kacely, she’s filed for divorce because you and Jackson has tarnished her image and everything her family stood for. Don’t believe the hype. She’s humiliated. Not only did her husband cheat, he cheated and has a daughter with a black woman. I don’t care how much of a Christian she claims to be, she’s a liar. I don’t care how nice she pretends to be to you, she’ll always regard herself as superior to you, and not only because her father is the largest inside owner of one of the largest bank holding companies in the United States. Think about it, as long as everything was in the dark, and out of the public eye, she was okay. She knew exactly what was going on between you and Jackson, but when the world found out, all of a sudden she got tired of keeping family secrets? Child please. Mark my words, at the end of the day, all Kerrie cares about is keeping her and her father’s reputation in tact, and the same goes for Jackson, which is why they were married in the first place,” Mrs. Abimbola said. “Okay, mom. I have to go. I love you. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye-bye,” Kacely said. “Okay, I love you too, goodbye,” her mom said, before ending the call. Kacely exhaled deeply. Her mind was all over the place. Kerrie seemed sincere earlier, at the cafe. Kacely didn’t believe that Kerrie would fabricate a will, just to cause chaos between her and Jackson. Or would she? Her mom had gotten to her. Kacely didn’t know what to believe or do. For now, she decided to lock the will away, until she could process her thoughts.
Seven months later, Kerrie and Jackson were divorced, and Kerrie had published her first book, which had become A New York Times Best Seller called, “A time to heal.” Kerrie was doing book tours and she’d quickly become a motivational speaker, self love coach and social media sensation. She was doing great things. Kacely’s haircare line was prospering and she began working on a skincare line as well. The past seven months were calm, until a storm came in the form of two FBI agent’s who came knocking on Kacely’s front door. The agents questioned her about money she’d sent to Jackson, earlier in the year. They showed her papers where three million dollars were sent in her name to Jackson’s account. “I didn’t send three million dollars. This is insane. I sent three dollars, to Jackson’s account, for half his shares. This was almost a year ago. What’s going on?” she said. “Do you have proof to back what you’re saying? Because, according to the bank statements we have, three million dollars were transferred out of your account into his,” one agent said, showing Kacely the bank statements. “I don’t have three million dollars, nor have I had three million dollars, ever. At least not at one time,” Kacely said. “You mean to tell me, that Jackson gave you half of his company shares for three dollars? You expect us to believe this?” the other agent said. Kacely opened her lap top and pulled up the transaction. The account showed proof that three dollars were transferred to Jackson’s account. The agents looked at each other and then looked back at the online statement. “Can you print this off?” Agent number one, said. “Sure,” Kacely said, before printing the statement off. “Thank you for your time. We apologize for the inconvenience,” agent number two said, before they left. “What the hell is going on?” Kacely said outloud, after closing the door behind the agents. She called Jackson. He answered. She told him what had happened, and asked him what was going on. He said, that somehow his bank account was linked to someone who’s been arrested for money laundering. “The FBI is questioning everyone who has sent or received money from my account.,” he said. He told her not to worry, and that his lawyers were on it. Kacely wondered what the hell, Jackson had been up to? Money laundering? Who was it that had gotten arrested? Why did the FBI have a bank statement showing that three million dollars were transferred out of her account into Jackson’s, but her statement showed three dollars? Later on that day, Kacely decided to pay those agents a visit to find out more information, but they warned her to stay away from Jackson, and to stay out of the investigation, because the people they were after were dangerous. “Let us do our job. You just keep you and your daughter, safe,” one of the agents said. “What does that suppose to mean?” Kacely asked. “Just, be more aware of the company you keep,” the agent said, as he walked her out. That evening, when Kacely picked Jakayla up from after school care, she decided to go to her mother’s house. She didn’t feel safe, going back home, so she and Jakayla spent the night at Mrs. Abimbola’s house. The next morning, Kacely went home to get her and Jakayla some clothes for the weekend. Jakayla stayed with her grandmother. As she went to open her door, she noticed glass on the ground, and the glass pane on her door was broken. She immediately, called the police. She didn’t go inside. After the police came and looked around inside her home, one of the officers told her that her alarm was disarmed and it appeared to be a robbery. He told her to look around to see if anything was missing. Kacely looked around, nothing seemed to be missing. Then she remembered the will. She went to look for it in the security safe in her attic, but the entire safe was gone. “What was inside of the safe, ma’am?” the officer asked, as he took notes. “My father’s will,” Kacely said. Jackson pulled up to Kacely’s house while the officers were still there. “Kace, what’s going on? What happened?” he said. “Someone broke into my house,” she said. “What? Where’s Jakayla? Are the two of you okay? When did this happen?” he said. “I don’t know, I just got here not too long ago. Jakayla’s not here, but she’s safe,” Kacely said. The officer began to question Jackson. After they got all the information they needed, the officers left, and one of them said, he’d be in touch. After the officers drove off, Kacely asked Jackson what was he doing there. “I came to see my daughter. Am I not allowed to see her anymore?” he said. “Not until you tell me exactly what’s going on, Jackson. The Feds come to my house questioning me about money, and now my home has been broken into. What have you gotten me into?” she said. “Nothing, Kace I promise. Every time I checked my accounts, my money was spot on. I don’t have time to manage every account I have on a daily basis, which is why I have an accountant. How was I supposed to know that he was laundering money through my account? It wasn’t only my account, it was several others account as well. I didn’t have anything to do with any of this. Now they’re trying to figure out, just how much of my money is legit, and how much is illegal,” he said. “What do you know about my father’s will, Jackson?” Kacely said. “What are you talking about? What will?” he said. “My father’s last will stated, that in the event of his death, my mother would become CEO of Eboda Tech. What do you know about that?” she said. “What do you mean, what do I know? I know nothing of this. This is my first time hearing of your father’s will. If that’s true, how did my father become CEO? How long have you known this? Why are you just now mentioning this to me?” Jackson said. “Because, the will was the only thing that was stolen, out of everything in my house. No jewelry. No money. No laptop, TV, or anything expensive was taken. Only that will. If you are telling the truth about not knowing about my father’s will, then someone is working really hard to make it seem like you do. Some kind of way this robbery is connected to that money laundering ordeal. If you truly care about your daughter the way that you say you do, you need to get to the bottom of this and figure out what’s really going on.
Kacely was right, Jackson thought to himself. He left her house and immediately got a private investigator to work on this. After getting a repairman out to fix her door, Kacely went back to her mother’s house, were she secretly kept a copy of her father’s will, hidden in her old bedroom.

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