My Stepmother Slapped Me—Then My Little Brother Played the Footage

I couldn't stop staring at the email address.

It had been created when I was thirteen.

My mother had helped me set it up so I could receive school documents and family photographs. After she died, I rarely used it.

Vanessa had helped Dad organize my accounts during the first year we lived together.

She knew the password.

I looked at Daniel.

“Can you tell who sent the email?””

He nodded.

“The message was submitted from a device registered to your home internet connection.””

Dad's face hardened.

“Vanessa.””

Daniel raised one hand.

“We need to be precise. That tells us where the message originated, not necessarily who physically sent it.””

I stared at the fake signature.

“Can you show me the original email?””

Daniel opened his laptop and turned it toward me.

There it was.

My name.

My old email address.

A message written in a way I would never have used.

I authorize the release of fifty thousand dollars from my education trust for household expenses.

I read it again.

Then I pointed to the bottom.

“That's not how I sign emails.””

Daniel nodded.

“I noticed that the writing style differs from your previous correspondence.””

My father leaned closer.

“Can we trace the device?””

“We can request the relevant records, subject to the proper procedures.””

I shook my head.

“I remember something.””

Both men turned toward me.

“What?”” Dad asked.

“Last year, Vanessa asked me for the password to that email account.””

Dad frowned.

“Why?””

“She said the school needed to send something, and she couldn't access the documents from her computer.””

Daniel made a note.

“Do you remember when?””

“February. I think.””

He checked the date of the transfer.

February seventeenth.

My mouth went dry.

“That was the same month.””

My father slowly pushed his chair back.

“Vanessa told me Emily's school fees had increased. She said she needed money to cover them.””

I looked at him.

“But my school fees were already paid.””

Daniel glanced at the statement.

“None of this particular withdrawal appears to have gone to your school.””

Dad stood.

“I'm calling her.””

Daniel stopped him.

“Michael, don't confront anyone before we secure the records.””

My father looked furious.

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing someone has been stealing from my daughter?””

“By making sure we don't give them an opportunity to destroy evidence.””

Those words made him pause.

Daniel gathered the documents.

“I'll arrange an independent forensic review of the electronic authorizations. Meanwhile, I want Emily's email passwords changed and all evidence preserved.””

I nodded.

But my mind had already gone somewhere else.

Vanessa had known my password.

She had access to my room.

She knew where my mother's jewelry box was.

And she had been trying to get me out of the house.

I suddenly understood that her plan wasn't simply about making me look like a violent teenager.

She wanted me gone before I learned what my mother had left me.

On the drive home, nobody said much.

Noah sat beside me in the back seat.

After a while, he leaned toward me.

“Emily?””

“Yeah?””

“Are you scared?””

I looked at him.

“A little.””

He held out his tablet.

“I saved all the videos in two places. One on here and one on my school drive.””

I managed a small smile.

“You did good, buddy.””

He lowered his voice.

“I think there's something else you should see.””

My smile disappeared.

“What?””

He unlocked the tablet and opened a recording from the hallway outside the study.

The timestamp was from the previous evening.

Vanessa stood outside the door, speaking on the phone.

I recognized her voice immediately.

“I told you the letter was gone,” she whispered.

A man's voice answered.

“You were supposed to destroy it.””

Vanessa looked toward the stairs.

“I couldn't. Michael came home.””

The man said something Noah hadn't recorded clearly.

Then Vanessa answered.

“I'm not worried about the money. I'm worried about what Sarah wrote on the last page.””

My breath caught.

The last page?

Daniel had shown us several pages, but he hadn't mentioned anything particularly unusual.

The recording continued.

The man spoke again.

“What did she find out?””

Vanessa lowered her voice.

“She found out that the account wasn't the only thing Peter transferred.””

I looked at Noah.

He looked just as confused as I was.

Vanessa continued.

“There's another document. The one Sarah signed before she died. If Emily finds it, Michael will finally learn why Sarah never wanted him to have control of the inheritance.””

The man replied.

“Then find it before Daniel does.””

Vanessa nodded.

“I know where to look.””

The recording ended.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Dad pulled the car over.

“What the hell was that?””

Noah swallowed.

“I found it when I was saving the kitchen videos.””

Dad turned toward him.

“Did you hear anything else?””

Noah shook his head.

“Just this.””

I looked down at the photograph of my mother in my hands.

There was something on the back I hadn't noticed before.

A tiny pencil mark beneath her handwritten message.

Three letters.

*S.D.C.*

I turned the photograph over again.

Then I remembered something.

My mother used to call her private document box the Sunday Chest. She kept it somewhere in the house, and whenever I asked what was inside, she'd smile and tell me I would understand when I was older.

I looked up at Dad.

“Where's the Sunday Chest?””

His expression changed.

“Your mother kept that in the master bedroom.””

“Is it still there?””

He shook his head slowly.

“No. I thought Vanessa had donated it after we redecorated.””

I stared at him.

“Donated it?””

Dad's phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

It was Daniel Carter.