Chapter 2: The Thirty-Two-Thousand-Dollar Secret
Dad didn't let the conversation end in the backyard.
He walked into his home office, placed his phone on the desk, and told everyone to sit down.
Nobody moved.
“Now,” he said.
Vanessa walked in first, her burgundy blouse perfectly tucked into her cream trousers. Brielle followed, wiping her cheeks with a tissue.
I remained near the doorway.
I didn't want to sit beside the people who had just watched my sister destroy something I had worked half a year to afford.
Dad pulled out his laptop.
“I'm checking every transaction.””
Vanessa let out an irritated breath.
“Arthur, you're acting as if she's emptied your entire bank account.””
“Maybe she has.””
“Don't be ridiculous.””
He opened the banking application.
A few seconds later, the room filled with the soft tapping of his keyboard.
Then he stopped.
“Brielle.””
She looked up.
“Yes?””
“Did you make these purchases?””
He turned the laptop around.
There were dozens of transactions.
A luxury department store. A jewelry boutique. An online designer retailer.
Two hotel bookings. A furniture store.
And several transfers to an unfamiliar account.
Brielle leaned forward.
“Some of those aren't mine.””
“Which ones are yours?””
“I don't remember.””
Dad stared at her.
“You don't remember spending almost seventy thousand dollars?””
Vanessa immediately intervened.
“Arthur, we should discuss this privately.””
“Why?””
“Because you're humiliating her.””
Dad leaned back.
“She's comfortable spending my money in public. Why should the consequences be private?””
Brielle covered her face.
“I'm sorry!””
“Stop saying that and start answering.””
I watched the screen.
Something about the transactions bothered me.
It wasn't just the amount.
Several purchases had been made on dates when Dad was traveling for work. Some were charged to a card he rarely used.
Then I noticed the account name attached to the transfers.
*M. Carter.*
I pointed at the screen.
“Dad, what's that?””
He leaned closer.
His expression hardened.
Vanessa immediately stood up.
“Don't touch that.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
“Because this is between your father and me.””
Dad clicked the transaction.
A transfer history appeared.
Five thousand dollars.
Seven thousand five hundred.
Ten thousand.
Another fifteen thousand.
All sent to the same account.
The recipient was listed as Melissa Carter.
Dad stared at the screen.
“Melissa?””
Vanessa's younger sister.
My aunt.
She lived in another state and visited us twice a year.
“What does your sister have to do with this?”” Dad asked.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“She needed help.””
“Seventy thousand dollars?””
“Not all at once.””
“Did you ask me?””
She looked away.
Dad turned toward Brielle.
“Did you send these transfers?””
Brielle nodded slowly.
“Mom asked me to.””
The room became very quiet.
Dad looked at Vanessa.
“You used my card to transfer money to your sister?””
Vanessa's voice became sharp.
“I was helping family.””
“By stealing from me?””
“Don't use that word!””
“Then give me another one.””
Vanessa's cheeks flushed.
I stood near the doorway, feeling as though I had accidentally walked into a conversation that had been happening behind my back for years.
“Why did Aunt Melissa need the money?”” I asked.
Vanessa shot me a look.
“This doesn't concern you.””
Dad didn't look away from her.
“Answer the question.””
“She had some difficulties.””
“What difficulties?””
“Her business.””
“What business?””
Vanessa pressed her lips together.
Brielle suddenly spoke.
“Mom said it was an investment.””
Dad turned.
“What investment?””
Brielle wiped her nose.
“The boutique.””
I frowned.
“What boutique?””
Nobody answered.
Then Dad opened another tab.
His bank account was connected to an email address he used for financial notifications.
He searched the name Melissa Carter.
A message appeared.
The subject line read:
*RE: Carter Family Boutique — Ownership Agreement.*
Dad clicked it.
I watched his eyes move across the screen.
Then he stopped.
“What is this?””
Vanessa approached the desk.
“Arthur, close that.””
He ignored her.
The email contained a business proposal from almost eight months earlier.
A boutique in the downtown shopping district. Luxury clothing, accessories, and designer handbags.
The proposed ownership was divided between Vanessa and Melissa.
But there was something else.
A section titled Initial Capital Contribution.
Dad's name appeared beside a figure.
$150,000.
He stared at the screen.
“I never agreed to invest in a boutique.””
Vanessa's voice softened.
“We were going to surprise you.””
“By taking my money?””
“We were building something for the family!””
Dad scrolled further.
Then he found the attached agreement.
The signature at the bottom was his.
Or something resembling it.
His jaw tightened.
“Who signed this?””
Vanessa looked at Brielle.
Brielle immediately shook her head.
“Don't look at me.””
Dad stood.
“Who signed my name?””
Vanessa took a breath.
“I handled the paperwork.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
“I had your permission to manage household expenses.””
“Not to create a business agreement using my signature.””
She stepped closer.
“You were always working. You never had time to discuss anything important.””
“So you forged my signature?””
Vanessa's silence answered him.
My stomach twisted.
Dad printed the agreement.
Then he turned toward Brielle.
“Why is your name listed as the boutique's creative director?””
Brielle wiped her cheeks.
“Because Mom said it would be mine someday.””
I looked at her.
“You have a boutique?””
She rolled her eyes.
“Not yet.””
“Then why did you need thirty-two thousand dollars in jewelry?””
She looked at Vanessa.
My mother answered for her.
“Those items were meant to establish her professional image.””
I stared at her.
“Professional image?””
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“Brielle is building a future. She needs to look the part.””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I had spent six months saving $4,800 for one gown.
My sister had spent tens of thousands of dollars preparing to inherit a business she hadn't even started.
And my mother had apparently been funding it with Dad's money.
“Did you know about the transfers?”” I asked Brielle.
She looked at me.
“Mom told me not to worry about them.””
“And the dress?””
She said nothing.
“Was burning my dress part of building your professional image?””
“Stop acting like everything is about you!””
Her voice cracked.
“I've spent my whole life having to be perfect!””
I almost laughed.
“Have you?””
She stood abruptly.
“At least Mom believes in me!””
The words hung in the air.
I looked at Vanessa.
She didn't deny it.
Dad closed the laptop.
“Everyone out.””
Vanessa frowned.
“Arthur—”
“Not you, Vanessa. We need to talk.””
He looked at me.
“Nia, go upstairs. I'll come get you.””
I hesitated.
Then I walked toward the hallway.
I had barely reached the staircase when I heard my mother's voice.
“You're not going to destroy everything we've built because of one mistake.””
Dad answered quietly.
“What exactly have you built, Vanessa?””
I climbed the stairs.
When I reached my bedroom, I found my closet door open.
My jewelry box was on the floor.
My drawers had been pulled out.
And the empty velvet hanger where my blue gown had been was lying on my bed.
I stood frozen.
Then I noticed a small white envelope tucked beneath my pillow.
My name was written across it.
Inside was a printed photograph of my ruined gown.
May you like
On the back, someone had written six words.
*YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT IT ALONE.*
