Chapter 3: The Missing Forty Thousand
The phone rang in my hand.
I answered without taking my eyes off the banking alert.
“Martin?””
“Megan, listen to me carefully,” my attorney said.
“Do not confront either of them about the transfer yet.””
I looked toward the bedroom door.
Downstairs, someone laughed.
“I think it already went through.””
“It hasn’t cleared,” Martin said.
“That’s important. I may be able to stop it.””
“Why is Linda transferring forty thousand dollars from our account?””
“Because she appears to believe she has authority.””
“She has no authority.””
“I know. But this is bigger than one unauthorized transfer.””
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“What did you find?””
There was a brief silence.
Then Martin said, “The company she owns has been receiving money from accounts connected to Derek’s business.””
I sat down on the edge of my desk.
“How much?””
“I’m still tracing it.””
“Martin.””
“I found at least two hundred and forty thousand dollars over the past year.””
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“What?””
“Transfers. Payments. ‘Consulting fees.’ Some of them appear to have been routed through shell invoices.””
I stared at the wall.
For three years, Derek had called my work “small consulting money.””
Meanwhile, someone had been moving hundreds of thousands of dollars.
My voice came out quieter.
“Is my money in there?””
“I don’t know yet.””
I closed my eyes.
“Then find out.””
“I am.””
“No. Find out before tonight.””
“Megan—”
“Because by tonight, Derek and Linda will know what I know.””
He sighed.
“I’ll have an investigator pull the records.””
“Do it.””
“And Megan?””
“Yes?””
“Do not let them scare you into signing anything.””
I looked down at the scarlet imprint on my wrist from where Derek had grabbed me earlier.
“They won't.””
I ended the call.
For several seconds, I stood completely still.
Then I opened my banking app again.
The forty-thousand-dollar transfer was marked *pending*.
The destination account was listed beneath it.
*Mercer Holdings LLC.*
I took a screenshot.
Then another.
I forwarded both to Martin.
A soft knock came at my office door.
I froze.
“Megan?””
Derek.
I locked my phone.
“Come in.””
The door opened.
He stood there alone.
His expression was different.
No anger.
No shouting.
No arrogance.
At least not on the surface.
He leaned against the doorframe.
“We need to talk.””
“We are talking.””
He glanced around my office.
“You're really doing this?””
“Doing what?””
“Making today into some kind of war.””
I almost laughed.
“You dragged me by my hair this morning.””
He looked away.
“I lost my temper.””
“You threatened me with a knife.””
“I didn't threaten you with a knife.””
“You sent me a photograph of one.””
“It was a joke.””
I stood.
“Then why wasn't I laughing?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Look, I'm sorry.””
The words sounded unfamiliar coming from him.
I said nothing.
He stepped inside.
“Mom is upset.””
“I imagined she would be.””
“She didn't mean what she said.””
I looked at him.
“She said I was a useless wife.””
“She was angry.””
“She watched you pull my hair out.””
He swallowed.
“I know.””
“Then why didn't she stop you?””
He had no answer.
I walked past him and opened a drawer.
Inside was a small first-aid kit.
I took out a cold pack and pressed it against the sore spot on my scalp.
Derek watched.
“Does it hurt?””
I looked at him.
“Yes.””
He nodded slowly.
Then he said something I never expected.
“I've been under a lot of pressure.””
I almost dropped the cold pack.
“That's your explanation?””
“No.””
“You think pressure made you do that?””
“I don't know what happened.””
“I do.””
He looked at me.
“You stopped thinking I would leave.””
His jaw tightened.
I continued.
“You thought because you had the house, the family name, the money—”
“I didn't have the house.””
“You thought you did.””
He went silent.
I put the cold pack down.
“And now you know you don't.””
His eyes flicked toward the folder on my desk.
“You really transferred ownership?””
“Yes.””
“You paid off my debt?””
“Yes.””
“So why would you do that?””
“Because you asked me.””
“I thought we were partners.””
“We were.””
“What changed?””
I looked at him.
“You did.””
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Can we start over?””
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“No.””
He stepped closer.
“Megan, please.””
“You have until six.””
His face hardened.
“So that's it?””
“Yes.””
“You're really going to put your husband out on the street?””
“You won't be on the street.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means Linda owns several properties.””
His eyes narrowed.
“How do you know that?””
I smiled.
“That isn't your business.””
He took a breath.
“Mom will never forgive you.””
“I don't need her forgiveness.””
He looked at me for another moment.
Then he walked out.
The door shut.
I waited until his footsteps disappeared.
Then I checked the time.
12:18 p.m.
Guests would arrive soon.
The birthday party was still happening.
Just not the way Linda expected.
I went downstairs.
The house was already filling with people.
A woman I vaguely recognized from Linda's country club stood near the dining room holding a champagne flute.
“Oh, Megan!”” she exclaimed.
“Everything looks gorgeous.””
I smiled.
“Thank you.””
She lowered her voice.
“Linda told us you've been cooking all morning.””
“I have.””
“Well, you're such a good daughter-in-law.””
I looked past her.
Linda stood by the cake.
She smiled when our eyes met.
A smile full of warning.
I walked toward her.
“Your guests are here.””
She lifted her chin.
“Of course they are.””
“Are you ready?””
“I'm waiting for my dinner.””
“You'll have it.””
She smiled.
“Good.””
She had no idea.
I stepped into the kitchen.
The catering company had returned.
Three chefs stood around the island, setting trays on warming racks.
Linda hadn't canceled them.
She had simply expected me to prepare sixty dishes and use the caterers for the rest.
One of the chefs looked at me.
“Are you Mrs. Mercer?””
“Yes.””
“We were told the menu changed.””
“It did.””
He glanced at the list.
“Sixty dishes?””
“That's what I was told.””
He smiled awkwardly.
“We brought enough food for thirty.””
“That's enough.””
The chef nodded.
“Where would you like the trays?””
“Dining room.””
As they carried the food out, I noticed Derek standing in the hallway.
He looked confused.
I ignored him.
The birthday party began.
Linda accepted congratulations.
She hugged guests.
She opened gifts.
She posed beside the cake.
Every few minutes, someone complimented the decorations.
No one knew what had happened.
And I intended to keep it that way.
At one o'clock, Linda tapped a champagne glass.
“My family,” she said loudly, “has always believed birthdays should be celebrated with gratitude.””
People smiled.
She looked directly at me.
“And with tradition.””
More smiles.
Then she said, “So I asked my wonderful daughter-in-law to prepare sixty dishes for me.””
Several guests laughed.
One woman clapped.
“That is dedication!””
Linda smiled proudly.
My stomach turned.
Derek watched me from across the room.
I reached for my champagne glass.
“I did.””
Linda's eyebrows rose.
“You did?””
“Yes.””
She looked surprised.
“Then where are they?””
I smiled.
“In the kitchen.””
A murmur went through the room.
Linda straightened.
“Sixty?””
“Yes.””
She hurried into the kitchen.
Derek followed.
Three seconds later, I heard her shout.
“What is this?””
I stayed where I was.
Guests turned toward the kitchen.
Linda stormed back into the dining room.
“These aren't sixty dishes.””
I took a sip of champagne.
“No.””
Her face reddened.
“Then where are they?””
“I made a different arrangement.””
“You were supposed to cook.””
“I was.””
A guest laughed nervously.
Linda glared at me.
“You think this is funny?””
“No.””
“Then explain yourself.””
I put my glass down.
“The first twelve dishes were prepared by me.””
She stared.
“And the rest?””
“Professional chefs.””
Her mouth opened.
No words came out.
One of the guests smiled.
“That sounds wonderful.””
Linda spun toward her.
“This isn't what I asked for.””
Derek stepped closer.
“Mom, stop.””
She turned on him.
“Don't tell me to stop!””
Then she looked at me.
“You humiliated me.””
I held her gaze.
“You asked for sixty dishes.””
“You were supposed to make them.””
“Why?””
Her expression faltered.
“Because you're my daughter-in-law.””
“That isn't a job description.””
A few guests went quiet.
Linda's face hardened.
“You're becoming very disrespectful.””
“No.””
I looked around the room.
“I'm becoming very honest.””
Derek grabbed my elbow.
“Come with me.””
I pulled my arm away.
“Don't touch me.””
Several people noticed.
The room fell silent.
Derek stared at me.
I stared back.
Then Linda said something that changed everything.
“You wouldn't be acting like this if you hadn't stolen from the family.””
My blood ran cold.
“What?””
The room stayed silent.
Linda seemed to realize too late that she had said too much.
Derek turned toward her.
“Mom.””
She waved him off.
“She knows what she did.””
I looked at Linda.
“Tell them.””
Her face changed.
“Tell them what you did with my money.””
Derek's eyes widened.
“Megan—”
I pulled out my phone.
I opened the screenshot.
Then I held it up.
“The forty-thousand-dollar transfer to Mercer Holdings.””
Nobody spoke.
Linda went pale.
Derek stared at the screen.
One of the guests whispered, “What is Mercer Holdings?””
Linda stepped backward.
“You've been spying on me.””
“No.””
I looked directly at her.
“I've been checking my own bank account.””
Derek turned to his mother.
“Mom, what did you transfer?””
“Nothing.””
I held up the phone.
“It says pending.””
Derek looked at me.
Then at Linda.
Something flickered in his face.
Fear.
Real fear.
I had seen anger.
I had seen arrogance.
I'd seen contempt.
I had never seen Derek afraid.
He whispered, “Mom…”
Linda shook her head.
“It's not what you think.””
“What is it?”” he asked.
She didn't answer.
I took one step toward them.
“That’s what I want to know.””
Linda looked around the room at twenty people watching her.
Then her eyes landed on the birthday cake.
The sixty candles.
The perfect frosting.
The photographs of her life.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Not here.””
I smiled.
“Why not?””
She stared at me.
Because for the first time, I knew the thing that could destroy this family wasn't the house.
It wasn't the birthday.
It wasn't even the money.
It was whatever Linda had been hiding behind *Mercer Holdings*.
And judging by the look on Derek's face, he was only now realizing that his mother had been hiding it from him, too.
Then Linda's phone buzzed.
She looked down.
Her face went completely white.
She quickly locked the screen.
But I had already seen the message preview.
May you like
Only six words.
*“We know what you did.””*
