Chapter 3: The Money Nobody Was Supposed to Find
My father sat on the edge of my desk chair.
For several seconds, he stared at the photograph in his hand.
I had never seen him hesitate like that.
“Dad, what missing money?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Last summer, Miller Construction donated two hundred and fifty thousand dollars toward the Red Creek rebuilding project.””
I blinked.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand?””
“Yes. It was intended to repair twelve damaged homes and provide temporary housing for families who had lost everything.””
I thought about the photograph.
“Was Claire involved?””
“She was supposed to coordinate the donation records, organize volunteers, and help distribute supplies.””
That sounded impossible.
Claire had never shown interest in anything that didn't benefit her personally.
“What happened?””
My father exhaled.
“After four days, she returned home. She told me she couldn't handle the working conditions. She said the local coordinator was rude and the volunteers were unprofessional.””
“That's all?””
“No.””
He opened his briefcase and removed a folder.
“Three weeks later, our accounting department noticed discrepancies in the project expenses.””
I leaned closer.
“How much?””
“Seventy-eight thousand dollars.””
My mouth went dry.
“Was it stolen?””
“We couldn't establish that.””
“Then what happened?””
My father looked toward the door.
“Your mother insisted that Claire had made an accounting mistake. She said the receipts were incomplete because the local office had been damaged by the storm.””
“Did you believe her?””
“I wanted to.””
He placed several printed pages on my desk.
“An internal review was started. Before it was completed, your mother asked me to stop.””
“Why?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he handed me one page.
It contained a list of transactions.
Several payments had been made to a company called P.M. Lifestyle Consulting.
The payments were spread across four days.
Each one was between twelve and twenty thousand dollars.
I looked up.
“What's this?””
My father said nothing.
I read the name again.
P.M.
Patricia Miller.
“Mom?””
He nodded.
I felt cold.
“Why would Mom receive money from the project?””
“That's what I've been trying to understand.””
I stared at the document.
“Does Claire know?””
“She knows more than she's admitting.””
I sat down slowly.
“Dad, why didn't you tell the police?””
“Because the evidence wasn't complete. I needed to know whether the money had been transferred for legitimate expenses or diverted somewhere else.””
He collected the pages.
“And because I didn't want to accuse your mother or your sister without knowing the truth.””
I understood his hesitation.
But another question had started bothering me.
“Is that why you're sending Claire to Red Creek?””
He looked at me.
“Partly.””
“What's the other reason?””
He leaned forward.
“Because I received a call yesterday from the current project director.””
“About Claire?””
“Yes.””
My father removed his phone and opened an email.
He showed me a message from a man named Robert Hayes.
The email was short.
It said that several residents had asked whether Claire Miller would be returning to the project.
They had been told she was coming back.
They were worried.
I read it twice.
“Why would people be worried about her?””
My father took the phone back.
“Robert didn't explain everything over the phone. He wants me to meet him at the site.””
“Are you going?””
“Tomorrow.””
I looked at the clock.
“Will Claire go with you?””
“She has been instructed to report there Friday morning.””
I didn't know what to think.
That evening, the atmosphere in our house became unbearable.
Claire spent an hour shouting at my mother on the phone about the living arrangements.
She complained about the accommodation, the work schedule, and the possibility of sharing a bathroom.
My mother tried to reassure her.
“You won't be there forever, sweetheart.””
“I know, Mom, but six months?””
“Your father will calm down.””
“What if he doesn't?””
“He always does.””
I stood in the hallway holding a glass of water.
Then Claire said something that made me stop.
“What about the documents?””
My mother lowered her voice.
“I told you. They're safe.””
“What if he checks?””
“He won't find anything.””
“And the original receipts?””
“Claire, stop talking about this on the phone.””
I slowly stepped backward.
My hands were shaking.
They were hiding something.
And suddenly, the ruined dress seemed almost insignificant.
The following morning, I went to the café before my graduation rehearsal.
My coworker, Olivia, noticed my swollen eyes.
“What happened to you?””
“Long story.””
She looked at the cardboard box I had brought with me.
“What's that?””
“My graduation dress.””
“Why is it in a box?””
I opened it.
Olivia covered her mouth.
“Oh, Emma.””
I tried to smile.
“My sister cut it up.””
“Why would she do that?””
I shrugged.
“Apparently, she didn't like seeing me happy.””
Olivia shook her head.
“That's awful.””
She examined the fabric carefully.
“Wait.””
“What?””
“Don't throw this away.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She pointed toward the beaded neckline.
“We might be able to salvage this part. And the skirt has enough material for a shorter design.””
I frowned.
“You think?””
“I know someone who can help. My aunt owns a small alterations shop.””
For the first time since the incident, I felt a little hope.
Maybe the dress wasn't completely lost.
That afternoon, I took the box to Olivia's aunt.
She examined the pieces for almost twenty minutes.
Then she looked at me.
“Sweetheart, this is going to take some work.””
I nodded.
“I know.””
“But I can do something with it.””
I nearly cried.
“Really?””
She smiled.
“Bring it back tomorrow. We'll see what we can save.””
I left the shop feeling lighter.
But when I arrived home, I found my mother waiting in the living room.
She had a document in her hand.
“Emma, we need to talk.””
I put down my bag.
“About what?””
“Your father has made a terrible decision.””
I sighed.
“Mom, please don't start.””
“He's sending Claire away because of you.””
I stared at her.
“Claire destroyed my dress.””
“And your father destroyed her handbag!””
“She cut something I worked six months to buy.””
“She was angry!””
“So was I!””
My voice echoed through the room.
My mother looked genuinely surprised.
I took a breath.
“Why is Claire always allowed to be angry, but I'm never allowed to be hurt?””
Patricia looked away.
“That's not fair.””
“Neither was what happened.””
She held up the document.
“Your father has made Claire's future dependent on this ridiculous project. He says she must complete six months there before he considers restoring her financial support.””
I said nothing.
“Do you understand what that means? She'll be living in a small town, working with construction crews, and sharing facilities with strangers.””
I looked at her.
“Maybe she should have thought about that before.””
My mother's expression hardened.
“You sound just like him.””
“Thank you.””
She stepped closer.
“Emma, I need you to do something.””
“What?””
“When your father comes home tonight, tell him you forgive Claire. Tell him you don't want her sent away.””
I stared at her.
“You want me to lie?””
“I want you to think about your family.””
I almost laughed.
“Mom, I am thinking about my family. That's why I'm not pretending this is okay.””
Her face turned cold.
“You have no idea what your sister has been through.””
“Then tell me.””
She hesitated.
For a moment, I thought she might finally explain.
Instead, she folded the document and slipped it into her purse.
“You'll understand when you're older.””
I shook my head.
“I'm already old enough to know that destroying someone's property is wrong.””
My mother walked toward the staircase.
Then she stopped.
“One more thing.””
I looked at her.
“Your father is planning to review the Red Creek accounts tomorrow. Don't interfere.””
My heart started beating faster.
“Why would I interfere?””
She stared at me.
“Because you've always been curious about things that don't concern you.””
Then she walked upstairs.
I remained in the living room.
Something about her warning felt deliberate.
She wasn't worried about Claire's punishment.
She was worried about what my father might discover.
That night, I couldn't stop thinking about the missing seventy-eight thousand dollars.
At 10:43 p.m., I heard the front door open.
My father had returned.
He walked into his office and closed the door.
A few minutes later, I heard his phone ring.
Then his voice.
“Robert? What did you find?””
Silence.
“What do you mean the original records are still there?””
Another pause.
My father stood up so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
“Are you certain?””
I moved closer to the office door.
Then I heard the sentence that changed everything.
“Don't let Claire know you've found the second set of receipts.””
I stopped breathing.
My father continued.
“And Robert, there's something else. Did you verify who signed the final transfer authorization?””
A long silence followed.
Then his voice dropped.
“Patricia?””
I stepped backward.
My mother was standing at the top of the staircase.
She had heard everything.
And she was looking directly at me.
“Emma,” she whispered.
Her face was completely pale.
“Come upstairs. Now.””
But before I could move, my father's office door opened.
He stood there holding a photograph and a thick envelope.
He looked at my mother.
Then at me.
May you like
And finally, he said:
“Patricia, I think it's time you explained why your signature is on the missing money.””
