Chapter 2: The Account
Dad ended the call without saying goodbye.
Nobody moved.
Lily had started rolling her suitcase back and forth over the same patch of floor, unaware that the adults around her were standing on the edge of something enormous.
I picked her up.
She wrapped both arms around my neck.
“Mommy, are we still going on vacation?””
I kissed her hair.
“I don't know, baby.””
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“Richard, this is a misunderstanding.””
Dad stared at her.
“How much did you take?””
“I didn't take anything.””
“The bank says otherwise.””
“You're believing a bank employee over your wife?””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“I am believing numbers.””
Tyler looked between them.
“Mom?””
Vanessa snapped her head toward him.
“Don't.””
Dad took a step closer.
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars.””
Vanessa went silent.
My heart thudded.
Dad looked at me.
“The account your mother established before she died. The one intended for you and eventually Lily.””
I couldn't breathe.
“You told me that account was untouched.””
“It was supposed to be.””
I looked at Vanessa.
She folded her arms.
“You're acting like I stole something from you.””
“You did.””
“No. I transferred money from a joint household account.””
Dad's eyebrows rose.
“It wasn't a joint household account.””
Vanessa's face tightened.
“I had access.””
“You had access,” Dad repeated.
“That isn't ownership.””
Tyler stepped between them.
“Can everyone calm down?””
Dad looked at him.
“Did you know?””
Tyler immediately shook his head.
“Know what?””
“That your mother has been taking money from your sister?””
I flinched at the word.
Sister.
Tyler had never called me that.
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“She isn't your sister.””
Dad turned slowly.
“Vanessa.””
She realized her mistake.
I stared at her.
“What did you just say?””
“I meant—”
“No.””
My voice shook.
“You meant exactly what you said.””
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“This is precisely why I didn't want Lily coming on the trip.””
I felt Lily's arms tighten around my neck.
Dad's voice became frighteningly calm.
“Why?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“Because she doesn't belong in our plans.””
My father's face went still.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out another sheet of paper.
“I found this in your desk.””
Vanessa's eyes widened.
“What is that?””
“A copy of the beneficiary change request.””
I looked at the paper.
My name had been removed.
Lily's name had never been added.
Instead, the entire account had been redirected.
To Tyler.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Dad…”
Tyler stared at the document.
“What?””
Dad handed it to him.
Tyler read it.
Then looked at his mother.
“Mom, what is this?””
Vanessa's lips parted.
“It's complicated.””
“You changed the account?””
“I was protecting you.””
Tyler looked horrified.
“From what?””
“From her!””
Vanessa pointed at me.
“She gets everything! The house, the trust, your father's attention—everything!””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
Dad's voice cut through the noise.
“You weren't protecting Tyler.””
Vanessa turned toward him.
“You have no idea what it's like living in her shadow.””
Dad shook his head.
“No. You don't know what it's like to lose a daughter and spend years trying to keep a family together.””
Vanessa's face twisted.
“I have given you everything.””
“You gave me conditions.””
Silence.
Then Tyler quietly asked, “Mom, did you know about the vacation?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
“Did you deliberately leave Lily behind?””
Still nothing.
Tyler looked sick.
Dad took my hand.
“We're leaving.””
Vanessa grabbed his sleeve.
“You can't abandon me here!””
Dad removed her fingers one by one.
“You abandoned your family long before today.””
We started walking toward the exit.
Then Vanessa shouted behind us.
“Richard!””
Dad stopped.
She was crying now.
But there was something strange about the way she looked at me.
Not guilt.
Not regret.
Fear.
“You don't know everything,” she said.
Dad turned.
“What don't I know?””
Vanessa swallowed.
Then she whispered four words.
“Ask her about the fire.””
Dad looked at me.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
May you like
Because I knew exactly which fire she meant.
And I'd spent sixteen years trying to forget it.
