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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