“If you refuse the inheritance,” she said, “the house gets sold and the money goes to a domestic violence shelter and a children’s legal aid fund.”
I frowned. “So?”
My mother leaned forward. “So your father also attached the evidence.”
A silence settled over the room.
“What evidence?” I asked.
No one answered right away.
Then Patricia whispered, “He was recording things. For years.”
A chill crept down my spine.
Vanessa stepped in. “He had videos, documents, bank transfers, emails. Things that could destroy us.”
My throat went dry. “Destroy you for what?”
My mother looked down.
And then I understood before she even said it.
The missing money. The way my college fund disappeared. The credit cards opened in my name when I was twenty-two. The “loan” Patricia swore I had taken and forgotten. The tax notice that nearly cost me my first apartment. The reason Daniel and I were always struggling even when I worked double shifts and tracked every dollar.
My mother had stolen from me.
Not once. Over and over again.
And my father had known.
“He documented everything,” Vanessa said, her voice shaking now for real. “If the lawyer releases those files, Mom could be charged. I could too.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “Why would you be charged?”
Neither of them spoke.
Then my mother said, “Because Vanessa helped move some of the funds.”
