Chapter 6 - My Sister's Name Was on the Account
Victoria's name should not have surprised me.
It still did.
Maybe because betrayal always feels fresh, even when you've been expecting it.
The account had existed for eleven years.
Two years before my grandmother died.
It contained transfers from several family entities.
Some small.
Some enormous.
And after my grandmother's death, money from my trust began appearing there.
I leaned closer to the screen.
“Could she have been added without knowing?”
The accountant considered it.
“Possible, depending on the bank and documentation. Unlikely if there were transactions requiring her authentication.”
“How many?”
He clicked.
“Twenty-three.”
My mouth went dry.
“Over what period?”
“Seven years.”
Adrian stood behind me.
I could feel his presence.
Not crowding.
Anchoring.
Melissa scanned the list.
“Expenses?”
“Mixed. Property taxes. Tuition. Luxury purchases. Event deposits.”
He paused.
“Wedding vendors.”
I closed my eyes.
Victoria.
My sister.
The girl I'd protected even when she mocked me.
The child I had held when she was sick.
The teenager whose college essays I'd edited at midnight.
She had known enough to move money.
How much she understood about its source was another question.
But she had signed.
Repeatedly.
My phone rang.
Victoria.
I stared at her name.
Adrian asked, “Do you want me here?”
“Yes.”
I answered.
She was crying.
Not delicately.
Actually crying.
“Josephine.”
“What?”
“Nathan left.”
I closed my eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
“I don't think he's coming back tonight.”
“What happened?”
“He said he needs space.”
Her voice cracked.
“He asked me if I knew the wedding was being paid for with your money.”
“What did you tell him?”
Silence.
“Victoria.”
“I told him I thought Dad handled everything.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I didn't know it was yours.”
“Your name is on an account.”
She stopped crying.
Not gradually.
“What account?”
“Don't.”
“I swear I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Margaret Eleanor Vale. Eleven years old. You're an authorized signer.”
I heard movement.
A door closing.
Then her voice lowered.
“Where did you get that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad told me that account was Mom's.”
“It is.”
“He said I was added for emergencies.”
“Twenty-three emergencies?”
Silence.
I continued.
“Wedding vendors were paid from it.”
“I used the card he gave me.”
“So you did know.”
“No. I knew the account existed. I didn't know where the money came from.”
I wanted to believe her.
Part of me still wanted a sister.
“Did you sign transactions?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Try.”
“Josephine, I planned a wedding for fourteen months. There were hundreds of payments.”
“From my trust.”
“I didn't know.”
“You never asked?”
Her voice sharpened.
“Why would I? Dad always paid for things.”
There it was.
The difference between us.
Victoria never asked where abundance came from.
She assumed she deserved it.
I had been taught that every need was an inconvenience.
She whispered, “Are you going to sue me?”
I looked at Melissa.
She pretended not to listen.
“I don't know.”
“Please don't.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I am.”
“Were you involved in the wine?”
Another silence.
My heart sank.
“Victoria.”
“I knew there would be a joke.”
“What joke?”
“Dad said he wanted to make a speech about you being single.”
“And the wine?”
“I knew Evelyn was doing something.”
I closed my eyes.
“How specific?”
“I knew she was paying the waiter.”
My stomach twisted.
“You knew.”
“I didn't think it would be that bad.”
The sentence was nearly identical to Evelyn's.
Cruel people always seemed shocked by the consequences of planned cruelty.
“What did you think would happen?”
“I thought he'd spill one glass.”
“One glass.”
“Yes.”
“And that was acceptable?”
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“You wore that dress.”
I actually laughed.
She started crying again.
“What?”
“You helped arrange a public humiliation because you didn't like my dress?”
“It wasn't just the dress.”
“Then what?”
Her voice became small.
“Mom kept talking about you.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“She kept asking if you'd come. Whether you'd bring someone. What you'd wear. Dad kept checking where you were sitting. Evelyn said everyone always watches you because you act like you don't care.”
I stared at the conference table.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“You don't understand.”
“No, I truly don't.”
“You walk into a room and you don't need anyone.”
Her resentment was raw now.
“They notice you because you're quiet. You don't chase people. You don't beg. You never ask Dad for money. You never ask Mom for introductions. You make us look ridiculous.”
I almost whispered, “By existing?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt more than I expected.
Victoria breathed shakily.
“My whole life, every time I achieved something, somebody said, ‘Josephine did that first.’ You had better grades. You got into better schools. Grandma trusted you. Even when you disappeared into that stupid office job, Dad still talked about you.”
“He insulted me.”
“He compared us.”
I understood then.
My father's cruelty had not only wounded me.
He had weaponized me against Victoria.
Praise one daughter.
Punish the other.
Reverse roles.
Create competition.
Keep both insecure.
Classic control.
I said, “Victoria, listen to me.”
She sniffed.
“You are not my enemy.”
Silence.
“You helped hurt me tonight. I won't pretend that didn't happen. But I don't want your life destroyed.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The truth.”
“I gave it.”
“Not all of it.”
She didn't answer.
I leaned back.
“What are you hiding?”
Nothing.
Then a whisper.
“There's a safe.”
Adrian looked at me.
“What safe?”
“At Dad's house.”
“Where?”
“His study.”
I knew the room.
Locked most of the time.
“He keeps documents there?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I've seen them.”
“What documents?”
“I don't know. Trust stuff. Company stuff. Copies of our IDs.”
My skin prickled.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I never asked.”
Of course.
“Can you get inside?”
Silence.
“Victoria.”
“I know the code.”
Melissa immediately shook her head.
No illegal entry.
I understood.
“Don't touch anything.”
“But—”
“Do not go into the safe.”
“Why?”
“Because if there are records, we need them preserved legally.”
She exhaled.
“Okay.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the hotel.”
“Stay there.”
“I don't want to.”
“Why?”
Another silence.
Then I heard something.
A knock.
Three times.
Victoria stopped breathing.
“Who's that?”
She whispered, “I don't know.”
The knock came again.
Harder.
A man's voice spoke from the hallway.
“Victoria. Open the door.”
My father.
I stood.
“Don't open it.”
“He knows I'm here.”
“Lock the secondary latch.”
“I already did.”
Roderick knocked again.
“Victoria.”
Her breathing became faster.
“Josephine, what do I do?”
“Call hotel security.”
“He'll make a scene.”
“He already made one.”
Then my father's voice changed.
Calmer.
“Victoria, sweetheart. I know you spoke to your sister.”
My eyes met Adrian's.
Roderick continued through the door.
“I need you to give me your phone.”
Victoria whispered, “Why?”
May you like
He answered.
“Because Josephine cannot see the messages you sent me yesterday.”
