Money from the trust routed through shell companies into commercial land that ended up owned by my father’s firm.

Trust funds paying for lavish renovations on a private vacation home in the Hamptons.

Fraudulent loans that were never repaid, payments to contractors who did not exist, and withdrawal authorizations bearing what handwriting experts formally declared to be crude forgeries of my deceased grandparents’ signatures.

My grandparents had spent forty years building that wealth; my grandfather had built a manufacturing company from nothing, and my grandmother had carefully tended their investments, all so that their descendants would always have a safety net.

My father had converted their life’s work into his personal slush fund, and my mother had helped him, every step of the way.