Chapter 8 - The Price of Being the Other Daughter
The door opened.
Lauren stepped inside.
She froze when she saw Julian.
I stared at the key in her hand.
"Why do you still have that?"
She looked down.
"You gave it to me years ago."
"That wasn't permission to enter."
"I knocked."
"No, you didn't."
She swallowed.
"I needed to see you."
Julian remained seated.
"About October 14, 2019?"
Lauren's face changed.
"You know?"
Apparently everybody did except me.
"Sit down."
She did.
"What happened?"
Lauren rubbed her palms together.
"Thomas came back."
"I know that."
"No. I mean physically."
I waited.
"He came to Dad's office."
"What happened?"
"They fought."
My stomach tightened.
"Physically?"
"No. Not like that. They argued."
"About money?"
"About the company. Grandpa. Old records."
"How do you know?"
"I was there."
That surprised me.
"Why?"
"I worked there briefly, remember?"
I did.
For three months after college.
Lauren continued.
"Thomas said Dad owed him money. Dad said Thomas had already taken everything he deserved years earlier."
"And?"
"Thomas threatened him."
"How?"
"He said he'd expose financial records."
Same story Dad had told.
"So Dad paid him."
"Eventually."
"With my money."
Lauren nodded.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Her eyes filled.
"Mom knew."
"I know that too."
"No. Mom knew before Dad took it."
I stared.
"She helped him access the account."
That changed things.
Mom had portrayed herself as discovering Dad's behavior later.
"You're sure?"
"I heard them."
I leaned back.
My ribs still hurt when I moved too quickly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Lauren gave a broken laugh.
"Because I was twenty-five and terrified of Dad."
"You were an adult."
"I know."
"Everyone keeps telling me reasons they lied as though reasons erase choices."
"They don't."
That answer stopped me.
Lauren wiped her eyes.
"I spent my whole life letting Mom and Dad convince me I was the fragile one."
I said nothing.
"They told me you didn't need anyone."
"I've heard."
"They told me you liked being alone."
That hurt more.
"I never said that."
"I know now."
"Did you?"
She shook her head.
"No."
There was no point pretending otherwise.
Lauren had benefited from my isolation.
Maybe she hadn't created it.
But she'd enjoyed the rewards.
"I was jealous," she said.
"You told me."
"No. I mean since we were kids."
I looked at her.
"You were better at school. Teachers loved you. You left home. You built something."
"And Mom and Dad adored you."
"I know."
We sat with the contradiction.
Each of us had spent years envying the other.
She envied my independence.
I envied her being cared for.
Neither of us understood the cost the other paid.
"I don't know if I can forgive you," I said.
"I know."
"I don't trust you."
"I know."
"And Ethan?"
Her face crumpled.
"He filed for separation."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I lied to him."
For the first time, Lauren sounded like someone taking responsibility rather than waiting to be rescued.
She removed my house key from her ring.
Then placed it on the table.
"I should've returned this years ago."
I nodded.
She stood.
At the door, she turned.
"I'm getting a job."
I almost laughed.
"What?"
"A real one."
"You've had jobs."
"Not ones I kept when they became inconvenient."
That was true.
"I'm also selling the house."
I stared.
"Why?"
"Because I can't afford it without money that wasn't mine."
Something in me softened.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But something.
After Lauren left, Mom arrived.
This time I let her in only after she knocked.
She told me the rest.
Yes, she'd known about Thomas.
Yes, she'd helped Dad access information tied to my account.
Yes, she'd hidden records afterward.
"Why lie at the hospital?"
"Because I was still trying to save my marriage."
"By sacrificing me?"
Mom cried.
"Yes."
The honesty was brutal.
And necessary.
"I can't keep protecting you from consequences," I said.
"I know."
"If Julian determines money was taken improperly, it has to be addressed."
"I know."
"Even if that hurts Dad."
"I know."
"Even if it hurts you."
She nodded.
"I know."
Then she handed me something.
A letter.
Not from Thomas.
From Dad.
"He didn't want to come unless you invited him."
I opened it after she left.
There were no excuses.
No requests.
No emotional manipulation.
Dad admitted what he'd done.
He promised to cooperate.
He promised to sell assets to repay what he could.
And at the bottom:
I spent years telling myself I took from you because you had more than enough. The truth is uglier. I took from you because I thought being your father entitled me to what you built. It didn't.
I folded the letter.
Then my phone rang.
Julian.
"We found Thomas."
"Where?"
"Nearby."
"Did you speak to him?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Miranda, there's something you need to know."
I stood.
"What?"
"The $300,000 wasn't blackmail."
I went still.
"What was it?"
Julian paused.
"Your father didn't pay Thomas to stay silent."
"Then why did he send him my money?"
"Because Thomas had something your father desperately wanted back."
"What?"
Julian's next words made me sit down.
"An original document your grandfather signed before he died."
"What document?"
"I haven't seen it yet."
"Why?"
"Because Thomas says he'll only show it to you."
"When?"
"Tonight."
A car pulled into my driveway.
I looked through the window.
An older man stepped out carrying a weathered black folder.
Julian spoke through the phone.
"Miranda?"
I couldn't answer.
May you like
The man looked directly toward my window.
Then he raised the folder.
