Chapter 8: My Stepsister's Confession
Brittany arrived the next morning.
She stood at the front door wearing jeans, a gray hoodie, and no makeup.
Her eyes were swollen.
Dad opened the door but didn't invite her inside immediately.
“Where is your mother?””
“At the hotel.””
“Does she know you're here?””
Brittany shook her head.
“No.””
Dad studied her.
“Why should I believe anything you tell us?””
She looked down.
“Because I know I helped her hurt Emily.””
I stood behind Dad.
“What's in your mother's bedroom?””
Brittany looked at me.
“A box.””
“What kind of box?””
“An old jewelry box. She keeps it under the bottom drawer of her dresser.””
Margaret, who was sitting at the dining table, stood up.
“Did you open it?””
Brittany nodded.
“What did you find?””
Brittany reached into her backpack and removed a small brown envelope.
“I found this.””
She handed it to me.
My name wasn't on the front.
Instead, it read:
*Michael Carter — Before You Marry Vanessa.*
Dad took it.
His fingers trembled.
“Where did you find this?””
“In Mom's bedroom. It was hidden underneath her jewelry tray.””
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a printed email.
The date was from seven months before his wedding to Vanessa.
The sender was an unfamiliar address.
The subject line read:
*About Emily and the Carter Estate.*
Dad read the email silently.
Then he passed it to Margaret.
She scanned the page.
Her expression became serious.
“Michael, you need to read this carefully.””
The email contained a conversation between Vanessa and someone named Thomas.
Vanessa had written:
I'm close to getting Michael to propose. Once we're married, I'll have access to the household accounts. Emily is young, and Michael feels guilty about his first wife's death. He'll agree to almost anything if I make him believe I'm helping her.
Thomas had responded:
What about the trust?
Vanessa's reply was worse.
I'm working on it. The girl is the problem. If she wasn't there, things would be much simpler.
I felt sick.
Dad sat down.
“Who is Thomas?””
Brittany shook her head.
“I don't know. Mom used to receive calls from him. She always went outside to answer.””
Margaret examined the email header.
“This may be important. We should preserve the original device rather than rely on printed copies.””
Brittany nodded.
“There are more emails on her old laptop.””
Dad looked at her.
“Where is it?””
“Her hotel room. She took it when she left.””
I stared at Brittany.
“Why are you helping us now?””
She looked ashamed.
“Because I heard her talking to Thomas last night.””
“What did she say?””
Brittany took a breath.
“She said she had one last chance to get the money before the bank completed its investigation.””
Dad stood.
“Did she say where she was going?””
“The old office downtown.””
Margaret immediately picked up her phone.
“I'll contact the investigators.””
Brittany sat on the sofa.
“I know you hate me.””
I didn't answer.
She continued.
“I shouldn't have laughed when she took your room. I shouldn't have worn your mother's robe. I knew it was wrong.””
“Why did you do it?””
“Because Mom always told me I deserved better than everyone else. She said Dad's money would eventually belong to us. I believed her.””
I looked at her.
“Did you really think my mother didn't matter?””
Brittany began crying.
“No. I just didn't want to think about her. Mom said she was gone and that we were the real family now.””
Dad turned away.
Margaret placed a glass of water in front of Brittany.
“Thank you for telling us. But you need to understand that helping us now doesn't erase what happened.””
“I know.””
For the first time, Brittany didn't make excuses.
She simply nodded.
An hour later, Margaret received a call from the bank.
The investigation had uncovered another transaction.
This one involved a company registered in Delaware.
The amount was $120,000.
Dad stared at the report.
“That's impossible. The trust should have required multiple approvals.””
Margaret pointed to the authorization.
“Someone submitted a fraudulent trustee approval.””
“Who signed it?””
She turned the paper around.
The signature belonged to Daniel Carter.
My mother's brother.
The same man Margaret had told us was dead.
Brittany covered her mouth.
“But Uncle Daniel died years ago.””
Margaret nodded.
“Exactly.””
Dad looked furious.
“Someone forged his signature, too.””
Margaret picked up the phone.
“This is now a much more serious matter.””
She contacted the bank's fraud department and requested an immediate freeze on every account connected to Carter Family Holdings.
Then she called the investigators.
While she spoke, I examined the document.
Something about it looked familiar.
The signature was written in blue ink.
But the date beside it was printed in black.
I leaned closer.
“Margaret?””
She covered the phone.
“What is it?””
“Can you look at this?””
I pointed to the date.
“It's dated June 18.””
She nodded.
“That's right.””
“But Uncle Daniel died in April.””
Margaret went completely still.
She checked the file again.
Then she opened another document.
The original death certificate.
Her expression changed.
“Michael, we need to verify the date on this document.””
Dad leaned over.
Margaret compared the records.
Then she whispered:
“This wasn't just a forged signature.””
She looked at us.
“Someone used your uncle's identity after his death to establish a second trust account.””
Dad stared at her.
“Who could have done that?””
Margaret didn't answer.
Brittany suddenly stood.
“Mom.””
Everyone turned toward her.
“She knew Uncle Daniel's banking information. She helped him with paperwork before he died.””
Dad frowned.
“Vanessa never met Daniel.””
Brittany shook her head.
“She told me she had access to his old computer because she was helping Aunt Vanessa with family documents.””
I looked at her.
“Your mother isn't my aunt.””
Brittany froze.
Then she realized what she'd said.
She reached into her backpack again and pulled out another paper.
“I found this in the same box.””
It was a photocopy of a bank statement.
The account holder's name was Daniel Carter.
But the mailing address belonged to a house in Charleston.
I recognized the address from Mom's letter.
It was the coastal property she had left me.
Dad stared at the statement.
“Why would Daniel's account be connected to that property?””
Margaret studied it carefully.
“Because this account appears to have received rental income from the estate.””
I frowned.
“What rental income?””
Margaret turned toward me.
“Emily, your mother left you a coastal property worth considerably more than the family home. It has been rented to vacation guests for years.””
I stared at her.
“Who has been collecting the money?””
Margaret checked the account.
Then she looked at Brittany.
“Your stepmother.””
Brittany began crying again.
But before anyone could say another word, Dad's phone rang.
It was the bank's fraud investigator.
He listened for nearly a minute.
Then his expression changed.
“What do you mean the account has been emptied?””
Margaret stood.
Dad looked at me.
“The money was transferred this morning.””
“To where?”” Margaret demanded.
Dad repeated the destination.
Then he slowly lowered the phone.
May you like
It was an overseas account.
And the authorization had been submitted using my mother's old digital signature.
