Chapter 3 - What My Parents Expected
I pushed the document away.
"Tell me that money wasn't transferred."
"It wasn't."
Julian's answer came quickly.
I exhaled.
"The administrator flagged the request because the authorization didn't match your established verification process."
"When?"
"Eleven weeks ago."
"And nobody told me?"
"They contacted my office. I asked them to hold everything while I investigated."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I did."
I frowned.
"I don't remember."
"April seventeenth."
That date meant something.
Then I remembered.
I had been in Chicago negotiating a licensing agreement.
Dad had called twice that day.
Mom had sent messages asking whether I could help Lauren with a "temporary housing issue."
My inbox had been chaos.
Julian continued.
"I left a message saying I needed to discuss an irregular request."
"I thought it was routine."
"I know."
I stared at the fake signature.
"Who had access to enough information to create this?"
"That's what concerned me."
"Julian."
He leaned forward.
"The request included information that wasn't public."
"Who knew it?"
"You. Me. Certain administrators."
"And?"
"Your parents had limited emergency information because of the authority you previously granted them."
My stomach sank.
"Could they have done this?"
"I won't accuse anyone without evidence."
That was lawyer language.
It meant yes.
Possible.
I looked toward the door.
"Bring them back."
"Miranda—"
"Please."
Julian studied me.
Then opened the door.
My family returned.
Lauren entered first.
She stopped when she saw the photocopy.
Her face changed.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable.
But I saw it.
So did Julian.
I held up the page.
"Does anyone want to explain this?"
Dad stared.
Mom gripped her handbag.
Lauren said nothing.
I turned the document around.
Her address faced them.
Ethan leaned forward.
"What is that?"
Lauren grabbed his arm.
"Nothing."
He looked at her.
"Lauren."
I watched them.
"You've seen this before."
"No."
"You reacted before I explained it."
"I recognized my address."
"From across the room?"
She went quiet.
Ethan stepped away from her.
"What is going on?"
Dad suddenly spoke.
"This isn't the time."
I laughed.
It hurt physically.
I pressed a hand against my ribs.
"Apparently there's never a time."
"You're recovering."
"And yesterday I was apparently healthy enough to be used as a bank."
Mom began crying.
Real tears this time.
"Please don't say that."
"Then tell me the truth."
Nobody did.
I held up the page.
"Someone requested nearly half a million dollars from a trust connected to me. Someone signed my name. The money was intended for Lauren's house."
Ethan's face drained.
"Half a million?"
Lauren turned toward him.
"Don't."
"You told me your parents were helping with the down payment."
"They were."
"With whose money?"
Silence.
Ethan looked at Dad.
Then Mom.
Finally Lauren.
"Whose money?"
Dad sat down heavily.
"It never went through."
That answer told me everything.
I stared at him.
"You knew."
He didn't look up.
"Dad."
"It was supposed to be temporary."
Julian became very still.
"Mr. Cole, I strongly recommend you be careful about what you say."
Dad glared at him.
"This is my daughter."
"And that's precisely why I'm advising caution."
I couldn't feel my fingers.
"Temporary?"
Dad looked at me.
"Lauren found the house. They needed to move quickly."
"So you forged my signature?"
"I didn't forge anything."
"Who did?"
His silence stretched.
I looked at Mom.
She turned away.
Then Lauren.
Her jaw trembled.
"Ethan and I were going to repay it."
Ethan stared at her.
"We were?"
She closed her eyes.
That was answer enough.
He backed toward the wall.
"You told me your father had investments."
"He does."
"You told me the down payment was a gift from your parents."
"It was supposed to be."
"Using Miranda's money?"
Lauren snapped, "Why does everyone keep calling it her money?"
I stared.
She realized what she'd said.
Again.
But this time she didn't retreat.
"You sold a company for more money than you could spend in three lifetimes," she said. "Do you understand what that's like for everyone around you?"
I couldn't believe her.
"What what's like?"
"Watching you have everything."
"Lauren—"
"No. You want honesty? Fine."
Mom whispered her name.
Lauren ignored her.
"You got the brains. You got the company. You got the magazine articles. You got the money. You got the lake house."
"I bought the lake house for Mom and Dad."
"Exactly!"
Her voice cracked.
"You get to be the hero every time."
I stared at her.
She had turned generosity into another crime.
Ethan looked disgusted.
"That doesn't give you the right to take her money."
Lauren rounded on him.
"You benefited too."
"Not knowingly."
"Oh, please."
"I didn't know."
He looked at me.
"I swear."
I believed him.
Maybe because he looked as humiliated as I felt.
Dad stood.
"We made a mistake."
"A mistake is forgetting my birthday."
I pointed toward the document.
"This required planning."
Mom finally spoke.
"We were going to tell you."
"When?"
"After everything settled."
"What does that mean?"
"When Lauren was secure."
There it was again.
Lauren secure.
Always Lauren.
"What about me?"
Mom looked genuinely confused.
"You don't need securing."
The words struck harder than shouting could have.
I nodded slowly.
"Right."
Mom stepped closer.
"That's not what I meant."
"It is."
"Miranda—"
"I'm tired."
I turned toward Julian.
"Please make them leave."
Mom froze.
"You're throwing us out?"
"I'm asking to recover from surgery."
Dad looked angry again.
"You can't just destroy this family because we made one bad decision."
I looked at him.
"No. I think the bad decisions started long before yesterday."
Security wasn't necessary.
They eventually left voluntarily.
Ethan left separately from Lauren.
That mattered.
Julian remained another fifteen minutes.
He promised to investigate the fraudulent request.
When he finally left, the room became silent.
Marisol dimmed the lights.
"You okay?"
"No."
"Fair answer."
She adjusted my blanket.
"Try to sleep."
I couldn't.
At 1:17 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then another message appeared.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
Dad.
Sitting at a desk.
Signing something.
The timestamp was eleven weeks earlier.
Below it was one sentence.
Your father wasn't the only person who signed your name.
A second photograph began downloading.
May you like
I tapped it.
And when the image sharpened, I saw whose hand was holding the pen...
