Chapter 6 - The Boyfriend Who Knew Too MuchMy father called Mason back three times.
Each call went straight to voicemail.
On the fourth attempt, the number had been switched off.
“Convenient,” Dad muttered.
Tiffany sat on the edge of the desk, clutching her phone in both hands. Her earlier confidence had vanished. She looked smaller without it, younger even, though not young enough to excuse what she had done.
“Who is coming after you?” my father asked.
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Your boyfriend just said someone was coming after both of you.”
“He was probably talking about the people he owed money to.”
“What people?”
“I told you. He invested badly.”
“That's not an answer.”
Tiffany began crying again.
I watched her with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Hours earlier, she had stood in my bedroom pretending to be a victim. She had let our mother slap me. She had watched as I was pushed into a storm that could have killed me.
Now she was the one trembling.
Part of me wanted to feel satisfied.
Instead, I realized that Tiffany had spent so long avoiding consequences that she no longer knew how to face a problem without turning it into somebody else's fault.
Dad pulled a chair away from the wall.
“Sit down. Start from the beginning.”
She did.
The story emerged in pieces, and each piece revealed another poor decision.
Mason had introduced Tiffany to a private investment group. At first, he had shown her screenshots of small profits and promised returns that sounded almost believable. She invested some of her savings.
When the investment supposedly increased in value, he encouraged her to reinvest the profits.
Then he told her there were fees.
Then taxes.
Then a final payment required to release her earnings.
Tiffany borrowed money from friends and sold several designer items. When that wasn't enough, she took my mother's diamond bracelet and sold it to Aurelia Exchange.
She intended to replace it before anyone noticed.
When her car money arrived, she considered using it to repay the people she'd borrowed from.
But the deadline for releasing the supposed investment proceeds came first.
She transferred the money to the resale business because Mason told her it would cover the final charge connected to a package of items he had already purchased in her name.
It was a ridiculous explanation.
It was also the first account of the night that sounded remotely honest.
Dad listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he asked, “How much money do you owe altogether?”
Tiffany stared at the carpet.
“I don't know.”
“Guess.”
“Maybe forty thousand.”
Mother covered her mouth.
Dad's face hardened.
“Maybe?”
“Thirty-five. Forty-five. I don't know!”
“Have you taken money from Claire's trust before?”
Tiffany looked at Mother.
That was answer enough.
My stomach turned.
“How much?” I asked.
Tiffany wouldn't look at me.
“How much did you take from my account?”
“Claire, I never meant for you to lose anything.”
“How much?”
“Some transfers were Mom's idea.”
Mother snapped, “Don't you dare put this all on me!”
“You told me I could borrow it!”
“I told you I would handle the money!”
“You said Dad would never check because the trust statements went to you!”
My father slowly removed his glasses.
He cleaned them with the edge of his shirt, buying himself time.
Then he put them back on.
“How long have you both been using this account?”
Neither answered.
He turned to my mother.
“Patricia?”
She began to speak, stopped, and finally whispered, “Three years.”
I felt as though somebody had opened a window in winter and let the cold straight into my chest.
Three years.
Every birthday card that mentioned my future. Every conversation about college. Every time Mother told me that my education was our family's greatest investment.
All of it had been happening alongside the quiet removal of the money meant to pay for it.
“Did Grandma know?” I asked.
Mother closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Did Dad know?”
“No.”
“Did you ever plan to tell me?”
She looked at me.
For one horrible moment, I thought she might tell the truth.
Then she said, “You were too young to understand.”
“I understand that my college money is missing.”
“You don't understand the pressure I was under!”
“What pressure?”
Her voice rose.
“Do you think maintaining this house is easy? Do you think your father's business pays for every little thing? You have no idea what it takes to keep a family like ours together.”
My father stood.
“Do not use this house to justify taking from your child.”
Mother stared at him.
Then Tiffany's phone buzzed.
A new message appeared.
Mason.
This time, the text was short.
I told you never to involve Claire. If Daniel sees the second account, we're finished.
Dad read it over Tiffany's shoulder.
He held out his hand.
“Open the message thread.”
Tiffany obeyed.
There were dozens of messages, but Dad scrolled to the oldest ones. The first mentioned an account number ending in 4817.
The second referred to an amount of $86,000.
The third contained a photograph of a signed document.
Dad enlarged it.
His expression changed so dramatically that I thought he might have been struck.
“Patricia,” he said, barely above a whisper, “what is the Mercer account?”
Mother sank into the nearest chair.
I had never heard the name before.
Neither, apparently, had my father.
May you like
Yet when he read the document's final line, he looked directly at me.
And I understood that the money missing from my education trust might be only a fraction of what my mother and sister had hidden.
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