Chapter 5 - Lauren Came for Answers
"Miranda? My name is Rebecca. Your father told you I stole from him."
Julian and I looked at each other.
That wasn't the introduction I'd expected.
I told Marisol to let her in.
Rebecca Sloan was in her fifties, with graying dark hair and a worn leather portfolio clutched against her chest.
She didn't look dangerous.
She looked frightened.
Julian remained standing.
"Ms. Sloan."
"Mr. Vance."
They knew each other.
I looked between them.
"Someone needs to start explaining."
Rebecca sat.
"Your father hired me twelve years ago."
"I know that much."
"I handled bookkeeping for his distribution company."
Dad's company had nearly collapsed five years earlier.
He blamed an employee for accounting problems.
Apparently that employee was Rebecca.
"He said you stole."
"He said I made unauthorized transfers."
"Did you?"
"No."
Julian interrupted.
"Rebecca, if you're making allegations, Miranda needs documentation."
"That's why I'm here."
She opened the portfolio.
Inside were old statements.
Emails.
Copies of checks.
"I kept everything."
My pulse quickened.
Rebecca explained that Dad's business had begun failing earlier than he'd admitted.
He had borrowed heavily.
Then he started moving personal funds into the company.
When those ran out, he turned to Mom.
When Mom's money ran out, they began relying on me.
Not openly.
Gradually.
A loan here.
A paid expense there.
A family emergency.
"I didn't know," I whispered.
"They didn't want you to."
Rebecca placed an email in front of me.
It was from Dad.
If Miranda asks, classify it as household reimbursement.
I read it twice.
"When was this?"
"Four years ago."
Before I'd sold my company.
Back when I was still reinvesting nearly everything I earned.
"Why come now?"
Rebecca looked uncomfortable.
"Because I heard about the accident."
"From whom?"
"Your mother."
I frowned.
"They contacted you?"
"Last night."
Julian leaned forward.
"Why?"
Rebecca swallowed.
"Your father wanted the old records."
The room went silent.
"Why now?" I asked.
"He said there might be a legal misunderstanding."
Julian's expression hardened.
"What did you tell him?"
"That I still had copies."
"And?"
"He offered me money."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand."
"For silence?"
"For the files."
Rebecca pushed the portfolio toward me.
"I didn't take it."
"Why?"
Her eyes met mine.
"Because I spent three years being blamed for decisions your father made."
The anger in her voice wasn't loud.
That made it more convincing.
"I lost clients. Friends. My reputation."
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't do it."
"No. But my family did."
Rebecca nodded.
"That's why I'm here."
Julian began reviewing the documents.
The deeper he went, the quieter he became.
Finally he looked at me.
"This is bigger than the trust request."
"How much bigger?"
"I need time."
"Julian."
He removed his glasses.
"Potentially years of concealed financial activity."
My stomach tightened.
"Criminal?"
"I'm not characterizing it yet."
Again: lawyer language.
Evidence first.
Rebecca stood.
"I should go."
I thanked her.
Before leaving, she stopped at the door.
"Miranda."
"Yes?"
"Your father isn't the person you think he is."
I almost smiled sadly.
"That sentence would've hurt more yesterday."
After she left, Julian took the records.
He promised to contact an independent forensic accountant.
I agreed.
By evening, exhaustion overwhelmed me.
I slept for nearly three hours.
When I woke, Lauren was sitting beside my bed.
I startled.
"How did you get in?"
"Mom told the desk I'm family."
"That wasn't permission."
"I know."
She looked terrible.
No makeup.
Red eyes.
Hair pulled into a messy knot.
For once, she didn't look like the younger sister who always landed softly.
She looked lost.
"Ethan left me."
"I heard."
"He told you?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she said:
"I knew about the trust request."
"I know."
"But I didn't forge your signature."
"Who did?"
Her eyes filled.
"Dad."
I waited.
"Mom knew."
"And you?"
"I knew after."
"Did you stop them?"
"No."
"Then you participated."
She flinched.
"I thought you'd say yes if we asked."
"But you didn't ask."
"Because Dad said you'd make it complicated."
I almost laughed.
"Meaning I might say no."
She looked down.
"Probably."
"Why did you think you deserved half a million dollars from me?"
"I didn't think of it like that."
"How did you think of it?"
"As family money."
There it was again.
"Why?"
"Because that's how Mom and Dad always talked about it."
I stared at her.
"What exactly did they say?"
Lauren hesitated.
"That after you sold the company, nobody in our family would ever have to struggle again."
Something inside me cracked.
Not because Lauren believed it.
Because I could hear Dad saying it.
Mom agreeing.
My success had become a family asset in their minds.
My work.
My sacrifice.
My sleepless nights.
Collective property.
"Did they ever tell you I agreed to that?"
"No."
"Did you care?"
Lauren cried quietly.
"No."
The honesty surprised me.
"I was jealous of you."
I said nothing.
"Everyone thought I was the favorite."
"You were."
"Maybe emotionally."
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
She wiped her face.
"Mom and Dad talked about you constantly."
"About my money."
"Yes."
The answer hurt.
"They were proud of you."
"Were they?"
"They were proud of what you could do for us."
That was worse.
Lauren reached for my hand.
I moved mine away.
She accepted it.
"I don't expect you to forgive me."
"Good."
"But there's something you need to know."
My body tensed.
"What?"
"The lake house."
"What about it?"
"Dad didn't just use your emergency account."
She looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
"He borrowed against something."
"The lake house is debt-free."
"I know."
"Then what?"
Lauren whispered:
"He told Mom you would never find out because the documents weren't filed under your name."
My heartbeat changed.
"What documents?"
Lauren opened her purse.
She removed an envelope.
"I found these in Dad's desk last night."
She placed it beside me.
On the front, in my father's handwriting, were three words.
MIRANDA — DO NOT FILE.
I reached for the envelope.
May you like
Inside was a document bearing the address of my lake house.
And at the bottom was another signature that looked exactly like mine.
