Chapter 4: The Transfer That Wasn't Supposed to Happen
“That's impossible.””
Vanessa repeated the words as if saying them enough times might make the document on my uncle's phone disappear.
David lowered his phone and placed it beside the financial statements.
“The transfer request was submitted yesterday at 4:37 p.m. It requires additional verification because the transaction exceeds the institution's security threshold. The bank contacted me this afternoon after finding inconsistencies in the authorization records.””
My father stared at his wife.
“You tried to empty the account yesterday?””
“I didn't empty anything!””
“You requested a transfer.””
“I was moving the money somewhere safer.””
“Safer from whom?”” Dad asked.
Vanessa looked at me.
For a second, I thought she might actually blame me again. She had spent years turning every uncomfortable situation into evidence that I was difficult, selfish, or ungrateful.
But this time, she couldn't find the words.
David reopened the folder.
“Before anyone makes another statement, I want to be clear about something. The remaining balance belongs to the trust. We need to establish who initiated this request, where the funds were supposed to go, and whether the request was properly authorized.””
Vanessa pulled out the chair she'd knocked over and sat down.
“Fine. Investigate me. But don't pretend you understand what I've been dealing with.””
My father remained standing.
“Then explain it.””
She looked at him with wet eyes.
“For five years, I've been the person keeping this family together. You were constantly traveling, working late, missing dinners. I handled the bills, the house, the girls' schedules, the repairs, everything. And whenever Emily was unhappy, I was the villain.””
“You weren't asked to take money from her trust.””
“I was trying to protect our financial future!””
“With money that wasn't yours?””
“Michael, we were married! Everything we had was supposed to be shared!””
“Not Claire's trust.””
Vanessa pressed her hands against the table.
“Do you have any idea how much I sacrificed to make this marriage work?””
Dad looked at her for several seconds.
“I gave you my trust.””
She blinked.
“I gave you access to our household finances because I believed we were building a life together. I trusted you to care for Emily when I traveled. I trusted you when you told me the girls were getting along.””
He glanced at the ruined dress lying in a plastic bag beside the kitchen door.
“And all this time, you were teaching my daughter that she didn't deserve anything.””
Vanessa's face twisted.
“Don't turn this into some tragedy because of a dress!””
My father leaned forward.
“You destroyed that dress after she worked six months to buy it. You watched her beg you to stop. You laughed while she cried.””
“I was angry!””
“Then you should have walked away.””
“I didn't think you'd make such a big deal out of it.””
The room went silent.
Dad straightened.
“That is the problem, Vanessa. You thought I would never find out.””
Her lips parted, but no answer came.
I stood beside the kitchen counter, clutching a glass of water I'd forgotten to drink. My hands were still stained blue, and I could feel the dye beneath my fingernails every time I tightened my grip.
My uncle's phone rang again.
He answered, listened, and walked toward the window.
“Yes,” he said.
“I have the statement in front of me. No, Michael did not authorize the transfer. I need the institution to preserve the request and suspend processing while the authorization is reviewed.””
Vanessa watched him.
When he ended the call, she stood.
“I want my attorney.””
“That's your right,” David said.
“You should contact one before making any further statements about the transactions.””
She grabbed her handbag from the sideboard.
Then she turned to Dad.
“Are you really going to let your brother investigate me without even hearing my side?””
“I've been hearing your side for five years.””
“You've been hearing Emily's side for five minutes!””
“Because you finally gave me a reason to listen.””
Vanessa flinched as if he'd slapped her.
Madison appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“Mom, what's happening?””
“Go upstairs.””
“But—”
“Now!””
Madison stopped.
Dad looked at her.
“Madison, stay here if you want to. Nobody is going to force you to take sides.””
Vanessa stared at him in disbelief.
“You're encouraging her to betray her own mother?””
“No. I'm allowing her to tell the truth without being punished for it.””
Madison slowly descended the remaining steps.
She stood beside me, leaving several feet between us.
For once, she wasn't dressed in something expensive. Her sweatshirt had a faded college logo across the front, and her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail.
She looked younger than she had that morning.
Vanessa turned toward the front door.
“I need some air.””
“Fine,” Dad said.
“But don't take any financial documents from this house, and don't attempt to access Emily's account.””
Vanessa stopped.
Then she looked at him with a coldness that made my stomach tighten.
“You have no idea what you've just started.””
She walked out and slammed the door.
For several seconds, none of us moved.
Then Madison whispered, “Dad?””
My father turned.
She swallowed.
“Is Mom going to jail?””
Dad's expression softened, but his answer was careful.
“I don't know what will happen. The financial records need to be reviewed, and the people responsible will have to answer for their actions.””
Madison looked at me.
“Emily, I—”
“Don't,” I said.
She closed her mouth.
I wasn't ready to hear an apology from the girl who had held scissors over my dress and laughed while my future was being stolen.
Dad seemed to understand.
“Everyone needs a little space,” he said.
“Emily, go upstairs and get ready. I'll take you shopping.””
I glanced at the clock.
It was almost five.
Prom began at seven.
“Dad, there's no way.””
“Maybe not. But I'm not letting your stepmother decide how the rest of your evening goes.””
He reached for his car keys.
David remained at the table, reviewing the paperwork.
“I'll stay here and contact the institution again,” he said.
“Michael, we also need to arrange an independent review of every transfer. This could take time.””
Dad nodded.
“Do whatever you need to do.””
Then he looked at me.
“Come on, sweetheart.””
I followed him upstairs.
My bedroom looked even worse than before. The blue stains had spread into the carpet, and the scissors lay where Madison had dropped them.
Dad stopped in the doorway.
His eyes settled on the place where the dress had hung.
“I should have seen what was happening,” he said.
“You didn't know.””
“I knew you were unhappy.””
I looked at him.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“I told myself you were adjusting to a blended family. I told myself Vanessa was strict because she wanted you to grow up responsible. Every time you said something was wrong, I believed her explanations because they were easier than admitting there might be something seriously wrong in my own house.””
My throat tightened.
“Dad, you worked hard for us.””
“That doesn't excuse being absent when you needed me.””
He walked to my dresser and picked up the small framed photograph of Mom.
She was standing on a beach, laughing at something outside the frame. The sunlight caught her hair, and her eyes were bright.
Dad stared at it for a long moment.
“Your mother would have been furious.””
I managed a small, broken laugh.
“She would've called Vanessa a few things.””
“Probably.””
His smile disappeared.
“Claire trusted me to protect you. I can't change what happened, but I can stop pretending everything is fine.””
He set the photograph down.
“Now, let's find you a dress.””
We drove toward the shopping district with the radio off. I watched the familiar Atlanta suburbs slide past the window, trying not to think about the prom photos my friends would be taking without me.
Dad pulled into a shopping center and parked outside a department store.
“We have forty-five minutes,” he said.
“That's enough to find something.””
Inside, a sales associate approached us with a bright smile.
“Looking for anything special?””
Dad looked at me.
“She needs a prom dress. Something elegant, if possible.””
The associate glanced at the clock.
“We have a few formal styles left in stock. What size are you?””
I told her.
She disappeared into the racks and returned with three dresses.
The first was too tight.
The second was bright red and made me feel like I was wearing a curtain.
The third was a simple midnight-blue gown with thin straps and a flowing skirt.
I stepped into the fitting room.
When I came out, Dad was waiting beside the mirror.
He stood up slowly.
For a second, he looked as though he might cry again.
“You look beautiful, Emily.””
I turned toward the mirror.
The dress wasn't the one I'd saved for. It didn't have embroidered flowers or the delicate neckline I'd fallen in love with.
But it fit.
It was clean.
And I could still go to prom.
I touched the fabric.
“I wish Mom could see it.””
Dad stepped beside me.
“I think she can see the girl wearing it.””
I leaned against him.
Then I noticed a small security tag near the seam.
The sales associate apologized and took the dress to remove it. While she worked, Dad paid for the gown and a pair of simple silver shoes.
When we finally left the store, it was 6:12.
“Can we still make it?”” I asked.
Dad checked his watch.
“If traffic cooperates.””
My phone buzzed.
It was Hannah.
WHERE ARE YOU? The girls are asking if you're coming.
I typed back.
I'm coming. I found another dress.
Her reply arrived immediately.
Tell me you're serious. I'm saving you a seat.
I smiled for the first time since opening my bedroom door that afternoon.
Then another message appeared from an unknown number.
You need to stop your father before he ruins everything.
My smile disappeared.
A second message followed.
Ask him what really happened to your mother's money before you decide who's telling the truth.
I stared at the screen.
The number wasn't saved in my contacts.
I showed Dad.
He read the messages twice.
“Do you know who sent them?””
I shook my head.
He called David, but my uncle didn't answer.
Dad looked back toward the shopping center, then down at my phone.
“Save those messages,” he said.
“Don't respond.””
“Who would send something like that?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he started the car.
“We're going to prom first. Afterward, we're going to find out who thinks they can threaten my daughter.””
As we pulled onto the road, my phone buzzed one more time.
This time, the message included a photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby.
May you like
The caption read:
Your father has been lying about the day your mother died.
