Chapter 7: The Account in My Stepsister’s Name
Samantha stared at the bank statement as if the numbers might disappear if she refused to believe them.
“Two hundred and forty thousand dollars?”” she repeated.
Thomas Hale nodded.
“That is the amount recorded in this transfer. The account was opened in your name when you were fifteen.””
“That’s impossible.”” Samantha looked at her mother.
“Mom, tell him.””
Victoria remained halfway up the staircase, one hand gripping the wooden railing.
“Samantha, calm down.””
“Calm down?”” Samantha's voice cracked.
“There's a bank account with my name on it, and apparently, it contains money stolen from Emily's mother. What am I supposed to do, smile?””
“Watch your tone.””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
Even now, even with an attorney standing in our living room and evidence of a missing inheritance spread across the coffee table, Victoria was more concerned about controlling her daughter's voice than answering the accusation.
Samantha turned toward Thomas.
“Can you prove I opened this account?””
“No,” he answered.
“The records indicate that you were a minor when it was established. We need to determine who opened it, who controlled it, and where the money went.””
“Then I didn't steal anything!””
“I haven't accused you of stealing anything.””
“But everyone is looking at me like I did!””
She threw the bank statement onto the table.
I watched her hands tremble.
For the first time in three years, Samantha looked less like the spoiled girl who had always gotten her way and more like a frightened child waiting for an adult to explain why the world had suddenly become dangerous.
Part of me wanted to feel satisfied.
After what she had done to my dress, after the things she had said about my mother, I had imagined watching her lose her confidence.
But this wasn't satisfaction.
It was something colder.
Because if Victoria had used her own daughter's name to hide stolen money, then Samantha might have been another person she had manipulated.
That didn't excuse the scissors.
It didn't erase the cruelty.
But it meant the truth was more complicated than I had wanted it to be.
Dad stood beside the coffee table.
“Victoria, come downstairs.””
She didn't move.
“David, this is getting out of hand.””
“Come downstairs.””
“I haven't done anything wrong.””
“Then you have nothing to fear from answering the questions.””
Her eyes flicked toward Thomas's briefcase.
For a moment, I thought she might refuse.
Then she descended the staircase, one careful step at a time.
She stopped beside Samantha.
“Darling, this is a misunderstanding. Your father and I can resolve it.””
Samantha pulled away when Victoria tried to touch her arm.
“Don't call me darling. Tell me what happened.””
Victoria's expression hardened.
“I said I would explain.””
“You've been saying that since we got here!””
“Samantha!””
“No!”” Samantha shouted.
“You told me Dad's company was struggling because he made bad decisions. You told me Emily's mother was a selfish woman who tried to destroy you. You told me our family had to work harder because Elena had left everyone with problems.””
She gestured toward the documents.
“And now there's a quarter of a million dollars in an account I didn't even know existed?””
Victoria slapped the table.
“Enough!””
Samantha recoiled.
Dad stepped between them.
“Don't you dare raise your hand or your voice at her to avoid answering a question.””
Victoria looked at him with disbelief.
“You're defending her now?””
“I'm defending the right of everyone in this room to know the truth.””
Thomas gathered the documents into a neat stack.
“I suggest we stop speculating and examine the financial records. I will arrange for an independent forensic accountant to review the transactions. Until then, nobody should move money, destroy documents, or contact the bank to alter account information.””
Victoria folded her arms.
“You can't give orders in my house.””
Thomas met her gaze.
“I'm not giving orders. I'm explaining what preserving evidence requires.””
He turned toward Samantha.
“You should obtain independent legal advice. Your interests may not be the same as your mother's.””
That sentence changed the room.
Samantha looked at Victoria.
Her mother looked away.
And suddenly, the girl who had spent years mocking my grief understood that her own family might have kept secrets from her.
After Thomas left, Dad asked Samantha to sit with us in the dining room.
Victoria attempted to follow.
“No,” Dad said.
She stopped.
“Excuse me?””
“This conversation is between me, Emily, and Samantha.””
“I'm her mother.””
“Then you should want her to hear the truth without being pressured.””
Victoria's lips tightened.
“You've changed, David.””
“No. I've finally stopped making excuses for you.””
She stared at him before turning toward the stairs.
“I hope you understand what you're doing.””
Dad didn't answer.
When her footsteps disappeared upstairs, Samantha sat at the dining table and covered her face.
For several minutes, none of us spoke.
Then she lowered her hands.
“Emily, I need to ask you something.””
I remained standing beside the window.
“What?””
“Did your mother really leave you money?””
I nodded.
“Apparently.””
“How much?””
“Thomas hasn't calculated what remains. He said the trust held substantial assets.””
Samantha swallowed.
“Enough to pay for college?””
“Possibly.””
She looked down at her hands.
“I didn't know.””
“I believe you.””
Her head snapped up.
“You do?””
“I believe you didn't know about that account. I don't know what else you knew, and I'm not going to pretend I do.””
She looked away.
For once, she didn't have a cruel comeback ready.
“I was fifteen when Mom said she wanted to open a savings account for me,” she said.
“She told me it would be for university. I remember signing something at the kitchen counter, but she said she would handle everything else.””
“Did you ever see statements?””
“No.””
“Did you ever withdraw money?””
“No. Mom paid for everything.””
I thought about the account again.
If Victoria had opened it using Samantha's identity, then the money could have been moved without anyone questioning the recipient's name.
But why would she have placed it there rather than keeping it in her own account?
Unless she wanted someone investigating the money to find a trail that ended with her daughter.
I looked at Samantha.
“Do you remember the name of the bank?””
She shook her head.
“Maybe. It was a branch near the old house. I can check my emails.””
“Do that.””
She stared at me.
“Why are you helping me?””
The question caught me off guard.
“I'm not helping you get away with anything.””
“I know.””
“I'm trying to understand what happened.””
She nodded slowly.
Then she looked at the floor.
“I shouldn't have destroyed your dress.””
The words were so quiet that I almost missed them.
I stood motionless.
Samantha rubbed her eyes.
“I was angry. I wanted you to feel bad because I felt like everyone cared about you more than me.””
I waited for her to say something else.
She looked up.
“But I knew it was your mother's dress. I knew how much it meant to you. I saw you crying, and I kept cutting it anyway.””
Her voice broke.
“I'm sorry.””
I wanted those words to fix something.
They didn't.
“You can't undo it,” I said.
“I know.””
“You can't make me forget what you said about my mother.””
“I know.””
“And you don't get to use what happened with your mom as an excuse for what you did to me.””
Samantha nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“I know.””
I looked at her for a long moment.
“I hope you figure out who you want to be when you stop trying to compete with me.””
Then I walked away.
I wasn't ready to forgive her.
But I was no longer interested in proving that my pain was greater than hers.
I had spent too much of my life doing that already.
At four that afternoon, Margaret called.
“Emily, I've been going through Elena's old files,” she said.
“I found something that might help Thomas.””
“What is it?””
“An inventory of the original collection. Your mother documented every design, every contract, and every payment she received.””
“Can you send it to him?””
“I already have. But there's another page.””
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“What page?””
“It's a list of the people who had access to the studio and the business records before the company was transferred.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who was on the list?””
“Victoria. Two employees. And one other person.””
“Who?””
Margaret paused.
“Your father.””
I stared at the wall.
“Dad?””
“Your mother added his name because he had helped her review a few contracts. She trusted him completely, Emily. She wanted him to know where everything was kept.””
I didn't know what to say.
Margaret continued gently.
“That doesn't mean he knew what Victoria was doing. But it means the investigation needs to examine every possibility.””
I closed my eyes.
I had spent the morning trying to believe my father had been manipulated.
Now the possibility that he had known more than he admitted was back, sharper than before.
“Did Mom ever say she suspected him?””
“No. Never. But after the money disappeared, she became frightened. She told me she couldn't risk destroying your father's business while you were still a child.””
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“She protected him.””
“She protected you, too.””
The call ended a few minutes later.
I sat in silence until I heard a knock on my bedroom door.
Dad stood outside.
“Can I come in?””
I nodded.
He stepped inside and looked at the repaired dress hanging beside my wardrobe.
His eyes lingered on the pearls.
“Margaret did an extraordinary job.””
“She did.””
He sat on the edge of the chair.
“Thomas called. He's arranging the forensic review.””
“Good.””
Dad studied my face.
“Emily, I know you're wondering whether I knew about the money.””
I didn't answer.
He nodded as if my silence had confirmed it.
“I would wonder, too.””
He reached into his pocket and placed a folded paper on my desk.
“What is that?”” I asked.
“A document Richard found in the company archives. It was attached to the original loan agreement.””
I unfolded it.
At the top was a date from six years earlier.
Below it was a list of transfers.
I recognized the first amount from the trust statement.
The second payment was the one sent to Samantha's account.
But the final entry was different.
It showed a transfer of four hundred thousand dollars into an account that had been closed shortly afterward.
The account holder's name had been blacked out on the copy.
I looked up.
“Who owned this account?””
“We don't know yet.””
Dad's expression was grim.
“But Richard found a reference number. The bank has agreed to provide the original records to the investigators.””
I looked back at the page.
“How much money is missing altogether?””
“More than we first thought.””
He took a breath.
“And there's something else. The transfer into Carter Industries wasn't the only payment made to my company. There were three separate deposits over eleven months.””
I stared at him.
“Three?””
“Yes.””
“How much?””
He gave me the total.
My heart sank.
The money wasn't simply a desperate one-time transfer that had rescued the company.
Someone had been moving funds repeatedly.
And the pattern suggested planning, not panic.
Dad stood.
“I've asked Richard to preserve every record. I'm not going to hide anything, Emily. Even if the truth makes me look terrible.””
I looked at him.
“Then why did you wait six years to investigate?””
He flinched.
“I didn't know there was anything to investigate.””
“But you signed documents you didn't read.””
“Yes.””
“You trusted Victoria to handle your finances.””
“Yes.””
“And you never questioned where the money came from.””
He lowered his head.
“No.””
I stood and walked to the window.
Outside, the sky was turning orange.
For years, I had believed my father was the one person in our family who could always tell the difference between right and wrong.
Now I understood that good intentions didn't make a person immune to manipulation.
But they didn't erase responsibility, either.
“I need time,” I told him.
He nodded.
“You can have all the time you need.””
When he reached the door, I called after him.
“Dad?””
He turned.
“If you find out you signed something that hurt Mom, I need you to tell me. Even if you were fooled. Even if you were afraid. I need the truth.””
His eyes filled.
“I promise.””
He left the room.
I turned back toward the repaired dress.
Beneath the pearl pendant at my throat, I felt the small folded paper in my pocket.
I had taken it from the desk without thinking.
The document contained the reference number for the missing account.
And at the bottom, in a line I hadn't noticed before, was a handwritten notation.
*Final beneficiary: E. Carter.*
My name.
Not Victoria's.
Not Samantha's.
Mine.
I read it again.
Then I heard a sound behind me.
A quiet click.
My bedroom door was opening.
Samantha stood in the doorway, holding a phone.
“Emily,” she whispered.
“I found something in Mom's email.””
Her face was pale.
“There's a message from the bank. It says the account in my name was only one part of the transfer.””
She held out the phone.
“The other account was opened in your name.””
I stared at the screen.
May you like
The account had been established when I was fourteen.
And the email showed that someone had accessed it the morning after my mother died.
