Chapter 6: The Receipt That Never Existed
“Show me the receipt.””
Marcus's voice cut through the ballroom, leaving no room for another excuse.
Simone stood beneath the chandeliers, her wedding dress sparkling under the lights. A moment earlier, she'd been the happiest woman in the room. Now, she looked like someone searching for an unlocked door in a burning building.
“I don't have it on my phone,” she said.
Marcus stared at her.
“You showed me the invoice on your phone.””
“That was before. I've changed phones since then.””
“You changed phones last week?””
“I don't remember when, Marcus!””
Tasha folded her arms.
“Simone, you sent me a screenshot of the invoice yesterday. You said you'd finally found the payment confirmation.””
Every head turned toward her.
Simone's lips parted.
“Tasha, why are you doing this to me?””
“Because you told me I was helping you keep everything organized. I didn't know you were asking me to cover up missing money.””
“I never asked you to cover up anything!””
“You asked me to tell Marcus that Darius had confirmed the food.””
Simone's face twisted with anger.
“And you agreed!””
“I agreed because I thought you were telling the truth.””
Marcus held out his hand.
“Tasha, may I see that screenshot?””
She unlocked her phone, scrolled through her messages, and handed it to him.
He examined the image carefully.
I watched his expression change as he enlarged the supposed invoice.
“That isn't Darius's company logo,” he said.
I stepped closer.
“Let me see.””
The document bore the name of my business, Bennett Table & Co., along with an invoice number and a total of $18,500.
At the bottom was what appeared to be my signature.
It looked almost convincing.
Almost.
The signature was copied from an old proposal I'd sent Simone months earlier, back when she'd asked whether I could provide a small engagement dinner.
But the invoice number belonged to a different job.
A corporate event we'd catered the previous spring.
And the bank details at the bottom weren't ours.
“Marcus, this document is fraudulent,” I said.
Simone let out a sharp laugh.
“Oh, please. Now you're a handwriting expert?””
“No. I'm the man whose company's name you used without permission.””
I pointed at the invoice.
“The bank account listed here doesn't belong to Bennett Table & Co. Neither does the payment reference.””
Marcus looked at me.
“Can you prove that?””
“Yes.””
I took out my phone and opened our accounting system. The records were boring, which was precisely why I trusted them. Every legitimate invoice had a corresponding client account, reference number, and payment history.
I found the relevant period and turned the screen toward him.
“There. No wedding invoice. No payment.
No outstanding balance. Nothing.””
Marcus leaned closer.
“Could she have paid in cash?””
“Then she'd have a receipt. And I'd have an entry in my books.””
Simone stepped toward me.
“You've made your point!””
“No,” I said.
“You made the point when you accused me of stealing money from you in front of your guests.””
She lifted a trembling hand.
“Because I believed you'd promised to handle everything!””
“You signed a document saying otherwise.””
“And you knew I was under pressure!””
“That doesn't give you permission to fabricate an invoice.””
The word fabricate landed like a slap.
Simone turned toward our mother.
“Mom! Tell them how much I've done for this family. Tell them how I've always been the one who keeps everybody together.””
Evelyn sat rigidly, her hands clasped in her lap.
For years, she had defended Simone's decisions with the same familiar phrases.
She is sensitive.
She means well.
She has had a difficult life.
But tonight, none of those phrases could feed the guests sitting at empty tables.
“Simone,” Mom said quietly, “where is the money?””
My sister stared at her.
“You too?””
“Where is it?””
“I paid the vendors!””
“Which vendors?”” Marcus demanded.
“Your brother hasn't been paid. Helen says the venue hasn't received a catering payment. Tasha says you asked her to confirm things that weren't true.””
He looked toward the doorway.
“Helen?””
The coordinator stepped into the ballroom with a folder tucked beneath her arm.
“I checked our records after the first complaint,” she said.
“The venue received the deposit, but the remaining balance is unpaid.””
Marcus's face tightened.
“How much?””
“Seven thousand four hundred dollars.””
Several guests whispered.
“And the catering?”” he asked.
“Nothing was received from the bride's account or from Bennett Table & Co.””
Marcus rubbed a hand over his mouth.
“So the venue is still owed money, the catering was never booked, and the invoice shown to me wasn't genuine.””
Helen nodded.
“That's correct.””
Simone's shoulders rose and fell.
“You're all making this sound criminal!””
Nobody answered.
That silence frightened her more than any accusation could have.
She looked at me again.
“Darius, please. You know me. You know I would never deliberately hurt Marcus.””
I remembered the Christmas she'd borrowed money from me and promised to repay it by February.
I remembered the car payment she'd called an emergency.
I remembered the months I'd covered for her because Mom insisted that family should never keep score.
And I remembered her standing in front of one hundred and fifty guests, pointing at me as though I were a thief.
“I know you,” I said.
“That's why I kept believing this was a misunderstanding.””
Her eyes filled.
“Then help me fix it.””
“I can't fix a lie by telling another one.””
Marcus turned away from her.
“I need to know where the eighteen thousand five hundred dollars went.””
Simone's tears spilled over.
She pressed her palms together, as though she were praying.
“I made some payments.””
“Which payments?””
“Wedding payments.””
“Show me the receipts.””
“I don't have them all!””
“Then show me the bank statements.””
She went silent.
Tasha reached into her clutch and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
“There is something else,” she said.
Simone spun around.
“What now?””
Tasha's fingers shook as she unfolded it.
“This was in the envelope you gave me last week. You told me to hold it in case Marcus asked about the catering.””
She placed it on the table.
It was a printed email with a subject line that made my stomach drop.
*TRANSFER CONFIRMATION — PRIVATE LOAN*
Beneath it was a bank transaction showing a transfer of $6,000 from Simone's account to someone named Adrian Cole.
Marcus stared at the page.
“Who's Adrian Cole?””
My mother suddenly stood.
“Simone, tell him.””
My sister looked at her mother with naked panic.
“Mom, please don't.””
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.
“Your father would never have wanted this.””
Simone took a step back.
And for the first time that evening, the wedding planner, the guests, and even Marcus seemed to disappear from her attention.
May you like
She was looking only at our mother.
Because whatever Adrian Cole had to do with the missing money, Evelyn already knew his name.
