Chapter 4: The Document Hidden in the Safe
“You think everything your mother left behind belongs to you,” Vanessa said, her voice trembling with anger.
“But you have no idea what it took to keep this family together.””
I held her gaze.
“Then explain it to me.””
For the first time since I had known her, Vanessa seemed unable to decide whether to shout or cry.
She chose neither.
Instead, she walked to the kitchen island, picked up her purse, and began searching through it with frantic fingers.
“Where is it?”” she muttered.
Dad emerged from the study, his phone pressed against his ear. He stopped when he saw her.
“What are you looking for?””
“Nothing.””
“You've been saying that all night.””
Vanessa pulled out a small leather wallet, two receipts, and a folded piece of paper. She shoved everything back into her purse except the paper.
I recognized the logo at the top.
It belonged to the bank that had managed Mom's education account.
Dad recognized it, too.
“Where did you get that?””
Vanessa folded the document in half.
“It concerns financial arrangements between your late wife and me.””
I stepped closer.
“My mother never made financial arrangements with you.””
“You don't know everything about her life, Emily.””
“No,” I replied.
“Apparently, neither did I know everything about yours.””
Her eyes flashed.
“Don't be clever with me.””
Dad ended his phone call.
“Give me the paper.””
Vanessa clutched it against her chest.
“No.””
“Vanessa.””
“You don't understand what you're about to do.””
“Then help me understand.””
She looked at me, then at him, and finally at Chloe, who had been standing near the staircase with her arms wrapped around herself.
“Tell him,” Vanessa said to her daughter.
Chloe blinked.
“Tell him what?””
“About the house.””
Chloe's expression tightened.
“Mom, I told you I didn't know—”
“Tell him what I explained to you last month.””
Chloe swallowed.
“You said the house was an investment. You said it was a gift because I needed somewhere to live after graduation.””
Dad looked at her.
“Your graduation is next year.””
“I know.””
“And you don't have a job.””
Chloe's cheeks flushed.
“I'm looking for one.””
“Have you applied anywhere?””
She said nothing.
Dad nodded slowly, as though her silence answered a question he had been asking himself for years.
Then he turned back to Vanessa.
“You used sixty thousand dollars from Emily's account to purchase property for Chloe, and now you're telling me there were arrangements with Elizabeth that justify it?””
Vanessa's fingers tightened around the paper.
“Your wife knew I was struggling.””
“Everyone struggles.””
“She promised she would help me.””
Dad's expression changed.
“Help you with what?””
Vanessa looked down.
For a moment, the kitchen became so quiet that I could hear the refrigerator humming.
Then she said, “Debt.””
The word landed heavily.
“What debt?”” Dad asked.
Vanessa drew a shaky breath.
“Before I married you, I made some bad decisions. Business decisions. I invested in a boutique with a friend, and it failed.
I borrowed money to keep it open. When the business collapsed, I was left with bills I couldn't pay.””
I stared at her.
“You told Dad you had sold your business.””
“I did.””
“But you never mentioned owing money.””
“Because I was ashamed!””
She struck the counter with her palm.
“Do you have any idea what it's like to watch everyone around you succeed while you can barely keep your head above water?””
I thought of the coffee shop.
Of my aching shoulders.
Of counting the money in my account before buying groceries.
“Yes,” I said.
“I do.””
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“Don't pretend your situation was anything like mine.””
“No. I worked to pay my bills. You took money that wasn't yours.””
Dad held out his hand.
“The document.””
After several seconds, Vanessa finally gave it to him.
He unfolded it.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then he turned it over.
“What is this?””
“A letter.””
“From Elizabeth?””
Vanessa nodded.
Dad's fingers trembled slightly as he read the first paragraph.
I moved beside him.
The letter was dated two months before Mom died.
Her handwriting was unmistakable, the rounded letters leaning gently to the right.
Vanessa, I understand that you are frightened about your financial situation. Richard and I have discussed ways to help you become stable, but I will not authorize any transfer from Emily's education fund. That money belongs to our daughter and must remain untouched until she is old enough to make decisions about her future.
My stomach tightened.
Dad read the paragraph again.
“What is this supposed to prove?””
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Keep reading.””
Below the paragraph was a handwritten note.
If you need help, speak to Richard. He knows what we agreed to.
Dad looked up.
“We never agreed to anything that involved taking money from Emily.””
Vanessa's face hardened.
“You agreed to help me.””
“I agreed to help you pay your bills while you got back on your feet.””
“And you did.””
“Because I believed you were honest with me.””
She laughed bitterly.
“Honesty? You want to talk about honesty now?””
Dad folded the letter.
“What does that mean?””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Elizabeth knew I was struggling. She knew I had creditors calling me. She knew I was terrified that Chloe and I would lose everything. She told me she didn't want another woman to suffer the way she had suffered after her first marriage.””
I frowned.
“Mom was never married before Dad.””
Vanessa looked at me.
“You don't know that.””
Dad went rigid.
“What did you say?””
She seemed to realize she had revealed something she hadn't intended to reveal.
“Nothing.””
“You said Elizabeth's first marriage.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I misspoke.””
Dad took another step toward her.
“Elizabeth was never married before me.””
“You knew her for what? Fifteen years before you married her? Did she tell you everything about her life?””
I watched my father's face.
For the first time, I saw something more complicated than anger.
Fear.
He turned toward me.
“Emily, go upstairs.””
“No.””
“Please.””
“Dad, this is about Mom.””
“I know.””
“Then I have a right to hear it.””
He closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, he looked older than he had an hour earlier.
“Fine.””
Vanessa picked up her purse.
“I'm leaving.””
Dad moved toward the doorway.
“You're not leaving with that document.””
“It's mine!””
“It has Elizabeth's handwriting on it. I need to know whether it's authentic.””
“You think I forged it?””
“I don't know what to think anymore.””
For a moment, Vanessa looked genuinely wounded.
Then her expression hardened again.
“Perhaps you should ask yourself why Elizabeth trusted me with so much information about her life.””
Dad stared at her.
“What information?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
Instead, she walked upstairs.
Chloe followed her.
“Mom, wait!””
Their footsteps disappeared into the second floor.
Dad remained in the kitchen, holding the letter between both hands.
I touched his arm.
“Did Mom have a first husband?””
He shook his head slowly.
“Not that I knew of.””
“Could Vanessa be telling the truth?””
“I don't know.””
He looked at the letter again.
“But I know your mother. She would never have authorized anyone to take your education money.””
I nodded, though the uncertainty in his voice frightened me.
“Then we need to find out what happened.””
Dad looked toward the hallway leading to his study.
“Your mother kept important documents in a safe.””
I followed him.
The study smelled of leather, old paper, and the cedar polish he used on his desk. A framed photograph of Mom stood beside the computer.
She was laughing in the picture, her head tilted toward Dad, her hand resting on his shoulder.
I had been thirteen when it was taken.
For years, I had looked at that photograph whenever I missed her.
Tonight, I couldn't stop wondering how many things I had never known about the woman in it.
Dad moved a stack of folders from the bottom shelf of a bookcase, revealing a small wall safe behind them.
He entered the combination.
The lock clicked.
Inside were property documents, insurance papers, an envelope containing Mom's jewelry, and a thick folder marked with her name.
Dad pulled out the folder.
His hands were unsteady.
“Your mother organized everything,” he murmured.
“Every account, every policy, every document she thought you might need someday.””
He opened it.
The first page was a list of financial accounts.
The second was a copy of Mom's will.
The third was a statement from the bank showing the original balance of my education fund.
Ninety-five thousand dollars.
Dad compared it with the document on his phone.
“That's right,” he whispered.
“This is the original amount.””
I leaned over his shoulder.
“What else is in there?””
He turned another page.
A transaction record had been clipped to the back of the statement.
The first transfer was dated four years earlier.
Sixty thousand dollars.
The recipient was the property company Dad had found on his phone.
But beneath that transaction were three more entries.
Five thousand dollars.
Eight thousand dollars.
Twelve thousand dollars.
Each transfer had been made to a different account.
Dad stared at the numbers.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” he said.
“That means the whole ninety-five thousand is gone.””
He nodded slowly.
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“Who authorized the transfers?””
Dad searched the papers.
There were initials beside each entry.
V.C.
Vanessa Carter.
My stepmother's name.
But the signature at the bottom of the authorization page looked different from the one on the letter.
Dad pulled out his reading glasses.
He examined the signature carefully.
Then he reached for the phone.
“I'm calling the bank again.””
Before he could dial, a notification appeared on the screen.
An email from the bank's fraud department.
*URGENT: ADDITIONAL ACCOUNT DOCUMENTATION REQUIRED.*
Dad opened it.
The message contained a scanned copy of a document submitted when the first transfer was authorized.
He enlarged the image.
His face went completely white.
“Emily,” he whispered.
“What?””
He turned the phone toward me.
At the bottom of the authorization form was a signature.
Not Vanessa's.
Not Dad's.
Mine.
May you like
Except I had never signed it.
And the date printed beside my name was three months before my eighteenth birthday.
