Chapter 3: The Money She Was Hiding
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Vanessa's voice.
We need those documents before he finds out what I did with the money.
At 7:15 the next morning, I found Dad sitting alone in the kitchen.
His coffee was untouched.
A stack of bills lay beside his laptop.
"Morning, sweetheart.""
"Morning, Dad.""
He looked exhausted.
"Did you sleep?""
"Not really.""
He pushed a mug toward me.
"Neither did I.""
I sat opposite him.
For a moment, I considered telling him what I'd overheard.
Then I noticed the envelope beside his laptop.
It was addressed to David Carter.
The return address belonged to a law office.
"What's that?""
Dad glanced down.
"Something I received last week. Nothing you need to worry about.""
"Is it about the house?""
He paused.
"Why would you ask that?""
I shrugged.
"Vanessa was talking about documents last night.""
His eyes narrowed.
"What documents?""
I told him what I'd heard.
I repeated every word as accurately as I could.
When I finished, Dad slowly closed his laptop.
"She said she transferred money?""
"Yes.""
"Did she mention an amount?""
"No.""
He stared at the kitchen window.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he picked up his phone and called someone.
"Michael? It's David. I need you to check something for me.""
He listened.
"Yes, today. And I want a complete review of the joint accounts.""
I looked at him.
He ended the call.
"Who's Michael?""
"My accountant.""
"Are you worried about Vanessa?""
Dad rubbed his chin.
"I'm worried that there are things happening in my own house that I don't know about.""
Before I could respond, footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Vanessa entered the kitchen wearing a silk robe.
She stopped when she saw us.
"Good morning.""
Dad didn't answer.
She poured herself coffee.
"David, are you still upset about yesterday?""
He looked at her.
"Why wouldn't I be?""
She sighed dramatically.
"I said I was sorry.""
"You apologized for hitting Emily. You haven't explained why you demanded two thousand dollars.""
Vanessa stirred her coffee.
"Because she needs to become independent.""
"That's my decision to discuss with my daughter.""
"Your daughter is an adult.""
"And you're my wife. Neither fact gives you permission to hit her.""
Vanessa put down the spoon.
"Are we going to keep having this conversation?""
"Not if you answer my next question.""
She looked at him.
"What?""
"Have you been transferring money out of our accounts?""
Her expression flickered.
It was tiny.
But I saw it.
"What a ridiculous question.""
"Then answering should be easy.""
She laughed.
"Of course I manage our finances. You gave me access to the accounts.""
"That isn't what I asked.""
She walked toward the refrigerator.
"David, I have a lot to do today. I don't have time for an interrogation.""
He remained seated.
"Where did the money go?""
Vanessa shut the refrigerator door.
"I paid household expenses.""
"Which expenses?""
She looked at me.
"Can you please stop turning your father against me?""
I stood up.
"I'm not doing anything.""
"You installed a camera in my house!""
Dad's chair scraped against the floor.
"Enough. Don't call it your house again.""
Vanessa stared at him.
For a moment, I thought she might slap him too.
Instead, she grabbed her handbag.
"I'm going shopping.""
Dad nodded.
"Fine. Michael will be here at eleven.""
Her face lost some color.
"Why?""
"To review the accounts.""
"That's unnecessary.""
"Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about.""
She grabbed her keys and walked out.
The front door slammed.
Dad waited until her car disappeared before speaking.
"Emily, I need to ask you something.""
"Anything.""
"Have you ever seen her take documents from my office?""
I thought carefully.
"Actually, yes.""
"When?""
"About two weeks ago. She came downstairs carrying a blue folder.""
Dad frowned.
"What did she say?""
"She said she was organizing old paperwork.""
"Did you see what was inside?""
"No.""
He stood up and walked toward the stairs.
"Come with me.""
We entered his home office.
The room smelled of leather, printer ink, and the cedarwood polish he used on his desk.
Dad opened the bottom filing cabinet.
He searched through folders until he found an empty space.
His expression changed.
"What's missing?""
"Property documents. Bank statements. Some investment records.""
I looked at him.
"Could Vanessa have taken them?""
"Apparently.""
He opened another drawer.
Inside was a small black notebook.
He flipped through it, then stopped at a page near the back.
I watched his face grow pale.
"What is it?""
He handed me the notebook.
Several transactions were written in neat handwriting.
The dates went back almost eighteen months.
Beside each date was an amount.
$4,500.
$7,200.
$12,000.
$3,800.
The total was more than I could process.
"These are transfers?"" I asked.
Dad nodded.
"Some of them.""
"To whom?""
He pointed at the last column.
Every payment had been sent to the same account.
The account holder's name was unfamiliar.
*Richard Lawson.*
"Who is Richard Lawson?""
Dad took the notebook back.
"That's what I intend to find out.""
At eleven, Michael arrived.
He was a short, silver-haired man in his late fifties who had handled Dad's finances for nearly fifteen years.
He shook my hand and followed us into the office.
"David, you sounded serious on the phone.""
"I am.""
Dad placed the notebook on the desk.
"I need you to tell me where these transfers went.""
Michael put on his glasses.
He examined the page.
Then he opened his laptop.
For nearly twenty minutes, the room was filled with the sound of typing.
Finally, he turned the screen toward Dad.
"David, these transfers are real.""
Dad leaned forward.
"How much?""
Michael swallowed.
"Approximately $186,000 over the last eighteen months.""
I covered my mouth.
Dad didn't move.
"One hundred and eighty-six thousand?""
"Yes.""
"Where did it go?""
Michael clicked another window.
"Most of it went to an account registered under Richard Lawson. The remaining transfers went through several smaller accounts.""
Dad stared at the screen.
"Who authorized them?""
Michael hesitated.
"The transactions were initiated using your household banking credentials.""
Dad's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Did I authorize them?""
Michael shook his head.
"According to the authorization records, no. Your signature was used on several transfer instructions, but I can't verify that you personally signed them.""
I looked at Dad.
He looked as though someone had knocked the air out of his lungs.
Then Michael opened another document.
"There's something else.""
"What?""
"Three weeks ago, someone submitted an application to refinance this property.""
Dad stood up.
"What?""
Michael turned the laptop.
The application listed the house as collateral.
The estimated property value was substantial.
But what made my blood run cold was the name listed under the proposed borrower.
Vanessa Carter.
And beneath her name was a signature that looked almost exactly like Dad's.
"That's not my signature," Dad whispered.
Michael nodded.
"I suspected that.""
Dad gripped the edge of the desk.
"Was the application approved?""
"Not yet. The lender requested additional verification.""
I stared at the screen.
Vanessa had demanded two thousand dollars from me to live in a house that she was apparently trying to use as collateral.
She had told me I wasn't family.
But she had been preparing to take something that belonged to my father.
Then Dad noticed something at the bottom of the application.
A second contact name.
He leaned closer.
"Emily.""
I looked at him.
"What?""
He pointed to the document.
There was a section titled Additional Household Occupant.
My name was listed.
Alongside it was a statement claiming I had agreed to vacate the property permanently in exchange for a financial settlement.
I shook my head.
"I never signed that.""
Michael examined the page.
"There's an electronic signature attached.""
I stared at the screen.
It was my name.
My signature.
But I had never seen the document before.
Dad slowly sat down.
"Someone forged both our signatures.""
Nobody spoke.
Then Michael clicked on the attached supporting file.
It was a scanned copy of an identity document used to verify the application.
My driver's license.
The one I had left in the home office drawer after renewing my car insurance.
I felt sick.
"She took my ID.""
Dad looked at me.
His eyes were filled with anger and regret.
"Emily, I want you to listen carefully. Nobody is leaving this house, and nobody is signing anything else.""
Michael closed the laptop.
"I recommend contacting a property attorney immediately and notifying the lender that the application is disputed.""
Dad nodded.
"Do it.""
Then his phone rang.
The screen displayed Vanessa's name.
He answered and put it on speaker.
"Hello?""
Her voice sounded cheerful.
"Darling, I forgot to tell you something. I'm bringing someone home for dinner tonight.""
Dad looked at me.
"Who?""
"A very important person. Someone who can help us with the house.""
Dad's expression hardened.
"What person?""
Vanessa laughed softly.
"Richard. You remember him, don't you?""
Michael went completely still.
Dad's eyes moved to the name on the notebook.
Richard Lawson.
"Why is Richard coming to my house?""
There was a pause.
Then Vanessa said something that made Dad's face turn white.
"Because, David, he's the person who actually owns half of it.""
The call disconnected.
May you like
And for the first time, I understood that Vanessa hadn't simply been trying to throw me out.
She had been preparing to take my father's entire life away from him.
