Chapter 2: The Money in the Receipt
Dad read the receipt again.
I had never seen him look so carefully at a piece of paper. He held it beneath the bedroom light, studying the transaction number, the payment method, and the account reference printed near the bottom.
Rebecca reached for it.
“Give me that, Daniel.””
He pulled it away.
“Answer my question.””
“It's a misunderstanding.””
“Then explain it.””
Madison wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of her expensive sweater.
“Mom said the money was hers.””
Dad turned toward her.
“Did you know where it came from?””
Madison hesitated.
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
“Your mother just said it wasn't our money.””
“Dad, I didn't buy the bag!”” Madison snapped.
“Mom gave it to me!””
“That's not what I asked.””
Rebecca stepped forward, placing herself between her husband and daughter.
“This is ridiculous. You're interrogating Madison because Emily decided to make a scene over a dress.””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Emily's dress has nothing to do with this receipt.””
“Then stop bringing it up!””
“I'm asking why money from my daughter's college savings paid for a handbag.””
Rebecca's mouth opened, then closed.
I stood beside the paint-covered dress, my fingers stained blue, listening as the room shifted into something I couldn't recognize.
My father had opened a college savings account for me when I was eleven. After my mother died, he promised that the money would help me attend whichever school accepted me.
He had deposited part of his annual bonuses into it. My grandparents had contributed birthday gifts. I had even put a portion of my diner tips into the account after I got my first summer job.
It wasn't a fortune, but it was my future.
“Dad,” I whispered, “how much money is supposed to be in that account?””
He looked at me.
“About thirty-two thousand dollars, last time I checked.””
I felt my stomach drop.
The scholarship I had earned covered most of my tuition, but I still needed money for housing, books, transportation, and the expenses no scholarship brochure ever mentioned.
Thirty-two thousand dollars was the difference between starting college with hope and starting with debt.
“Can you check it?”” I asked.
Dad took out his phone.
Rebecca suddenly laughed, a brittle little sound that didn't belong in the room.
“Oh, for heaven's sake. The bank statements haven't been reconciled. There are transfers between family accounts all the time.””
“Transfers?”” Dad repeated.
“Yes. I moved money temporarily. I intended to put it back.””
“When?””
Rebecca looked at him sharply.
“When things settled down.””
“Things settled down months ago.””
“You don't understand how expensive this household has become.””
Dad stared at her.
“You bought Madison a four-thousand-dollar handbag while telling Emily she had to work weekends for a dress.””
“Madison needed something nice for her graduation pictures!””
“So did Emily.””
“Emily has a scholarship!””
“And Madison has a mother who keeps telling her that consequences are for other people.””
Madison made a wounded noise.
“Dad, that's not fair!””
He ignored her and opened his banking app.
I watched his thumb move across the screen.
Then he stopped.
His shoulders stiffened.
“What?”” I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
“Daniel?”” Rebecca said, suddenly softer.
“Whatever you're seeing, there's an explanation.””
He turned the phone toward himself and scrolled through the transaction history.
“Thirty-five hundred dollars,” he murmured.
“Two thousand. Four thousand. Twelve hundred. Another three thousand…”
He stopped again.
I felt cold all over.
“How much is missing?”” I asked.
Dad lifted his eyes to mine.
“I don't know yet.””
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“You're making a mistake by doing this in front of the girls.””
“No,” he said.
“The mistake was thinking I didn't need to look.””
He walked into the hallway, and I followed him. Rebecca hurried after us, her heels striking the hardwood.
“Daniel, please,” she said.
“We can discuss this privately.””
“You had months to discuss it with me.””
“I was protecting the family.””
“From what?””
She didn't answer.
Dad entered his home office and sat at the desk. He pulled open a drawer and removed a thick folder containing old account statements.
I had seen that folder before. He kept financial documents organized by year, with labels on every tab.
He flipped through several pages.
“Emily, sit down.””
I sat in the chair opposite him.
Rebecca remained standing near the door. Madison hovered behind her, clutching the ruined handbag against her chest as though holding it tightly might somehow restore its value.
Dad compared the statements with the transactions on his phone.
Every few seconds, he made a small mark with his pen.
Finally, he pushed the papers away.
“The account had thirty-two thousand four hundred dollars six months ago.””
My hands tightened around the edge of the chair.
“And now?””
“Four thousand eight hundred.””
The office seemed to tilt.
“That's impossible,” I whispered.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“I'm going to verify every transaction with the bank.””
Rebecca seized the opportunity.
“See? That's exactly why you shouldn't jump to conclusions. There could be pending transfers, investment adjustments, fees—”
“Thirty thousand dollars doesn't disappear in fees.””
“I said I would explain!””
“Then explain.””
She stared at him.
For the first time since she married my father, she seemed unable to produce a single sentence that would make everything her fault.
Madison suddenly burst into tears again.
“Mom said it was family money! She said Emily didn't need it because she had a scholarship!””
I turned toward her.
“What?””
Madison looked at me, then immediately regretted speaking.
Rebecca spun around.
“Madison, stop talking.””
But the words had already escaped.
Dad rose slowly from his chair.
“Rebecca, what exactly did you tell my daughter about Emily's savings?””
Rebecca's face went pale.
“I told Madison nothing.””
“That's not true!”” Madison cried.
“You said Emily was going to leave anyway, and that the money would be wasted sitting in an account while we had bills to pay!””
I stared at my stepsister.
“You knew?””
Madison looked down.
“I didn't know it was all your college money.””
“But you knew it wasn't yours.””
“Mom said she'd replace it!””
Dad planted both hands on the desk.
“How long have you been taking money from that account?””
Rebecca flinched at the word taking.
“I borrowed it,” she said.
“There's a difference.””
“Not without permission.””
“I was going to put it back!””
“With what?””
Her silence answered him.
Dad reached for his phone again.
“I'm calling the bank. Then I'm calling our attorney.””
Rebecca's eyes widened.
“You wouldn't do that to me.””
“I wouldn't do what?”” Dad asked.
“Ask where my daughter's money went?””
She stepped closer to him.
“If you make this public, you could destroy our family.””
Dad looked at the ruined dress visible through the open office door.
“No, Rebecca. Someone in this house has already been destroying things.””
He dialed the bank's fraud department and put the call on speaker.
A representative answered after several minutes. Dad confirmed his identity, explained the situation, and asked for a complete transaction history.
The representative promised to send the records to his registered email address.
Then she asked one question.
“Sir, are you also disputing the withdrawal authorization submitted under your account?””
Dad frowned.
“What withdrawal authorization?””
There was a pause.
“The authorization that allowed a second user to access the education account and initiate transfers.””
Rebecca gripped the doorframe.
Dad slowly turned his head toward her.
“Who is the second user?””
May you like
The representative began reading a name.
And before she finished, Rebecca whispered, “Daniel, don't.””
