Chapter 4: Before She Finds the Other Account
My father's phone vibrated again in his hand.
The message remained on the screen.
*We need to talk before she finds the other account.*
Dad read it twice, his lips moving silently over the words. Then he looked toward the living room, where Vanessa sat on the sofa with her purse clutched against her stomach.
“Don't answer that,” she had said.
Not Who is calling?
Not What does the message mean?
She had known exactly who was calling.
And somehow, she knew what I was about to discover.
“Dad,” I whispered, “what other account?””
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer to the kitchen counter, where my laptop still displayed the scholarship withdrawal confirmation. The device label was unmistakable. The email had been sent after a login from his personal laptop, and the signature attached to the request looked like mine.
My father had always said that honesty was the one thing he would never compromise.
Now he stood in front of me, holding a phone that might contain the answer to everything.
“Let me see the message,” I said.
Dad pulled the phone against his chest.
“Give me a second, Nia.””
“Why?””
“Because I need to understand what's happening.””
“You said you didn't know anything about the withdrawal.””
“I don't!””
“Then why is Vanessa telling someone to talk to you before I find another account?””
He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
“I swear to you, I don't know what she's talking about.””
From the living room came the sound of Vanessa setting her purse on the coffee table.
“Marcus, are you coming in here?””
Dad didn't respond.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway, her burgundy blouse still immaculate, her sleek bob tucked behind one ear.
Her gaze moved from his phone to my laptop.
Then she saw the email on the screen.
Her expression changed.
“Why are you looking through his computer records?”” she demanded.
“It's my email account,” I replied.
“Someone used Dad's laptop to submit a scholarship withdrawal under my name.””
“You don't know that someone used it.””
“The university's security notification says they did.””
“Those notifications can be wrong.””
“Then why are you afraid of me finding another account?””
Vanessa stared at me.
For one brief second, she seemed to forget that Dad was standing beside her.
Then she turned toward him.
“Marcus, tell her she has no right to interrogate me like this.””
Dad lowered his phone.
“Who sent you that message?””
She blinked.
“What message?””
“The one you just told me not to answer.””
“I didn't tell you not to answer anything.””
“I heard you.””
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Because I knew you would make this worse. You're already confused, and she's deliberately twisting everything.””
Dad held up his phone.
“Then explain this.””
She looked at the screen.
Her mouth opened slightly.
“I don't know who sent that.””
“You're the one who called me.””
“I called you because I wanted to talk.””
“About what?””
“About our family.””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Which account, Vanessa?””
She took a slow breath, then reached for his phone.
“Give me that. I'll explain everything.””
He stepped back.
“No.””
The word seemed to surprise both of them.
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me?””
“You heard me.””
For years, Dad had allowed Vanessa to smooth over arguments before they became uncomfortable. She chose which bills he saw, which school messages he read, and which problems supposedly required his attention.
Whenever I complained, she told him I was exaggerating.
Whenever he questioned her, she cried until he apologized.
But now the police had a document bearing my name, a transaction bearing his, and an email linking the withdrawal request to his laptop.
There was no way to make those things disappear with a wounded expression.
Vanessa looked at me.
“You think you've won something,” she said.
“You think finding one email means you understand what's happening.””
“I understand that somebody tried to take my scholarship.””
“And I told you I was trying to help!””
“You hit me because I wouldn't accept your lie.””
Her face hardened.
“Lower your voice.””
“No.””
The word escaped before I could think about it.
Dad turned toward me.
I expected him to tell me to calm down.
Instead, he looked at Vanessa.
“Did you hit my daughter?””
Vanessa's eyes widened.
“Marcus, don't be ridiculous.””
“Did you?””
“She was screaming at me!””
“That wasn't my question.””
“She was disrespecting me in my own home!””
Dad took a step toward her.
“This is my home, too.””
The silence that followed felt heavier than the shouting.
Vanessa stared at him as if he had betrayed her.
Then she grabbed her purse.
“Fine. Believe whatever you want. But when this destroys everything we've built, don't come crying to me.””
She turned toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”” Dad asked.
“To make a phone call.””
“Stay here.””
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned back.
“You don't get to order me around, Marcus.””
“Then answer one question before you leave.””
“What?””
“Did you submit Nia's withdrawal request?””
“No.””
“Did you access my laptop that week?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“I use your laptop all the time.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
She looked toward the front door.
“I have nothing else to say.””
She walked away.
Dad started after her, but I caught his sleeve.
“Don't let her leave with anything from the desk.””
He stopped.
“Why?””
“The yellow envelope was hidden there. If she knows there's another account, she might know where the records are.””
He looked at the hallway, then at me.
For the first time, we were thinking about the same thing.
Evidence.
Dad retrieved his phone and took a screenshot of the message. He didn't respond to the caller. Then he placed the phone on the counter and opened the laptop he had brought home from work.
“Can you show me the security notification?”” he asked.
I turned my screen toward him.
He read the alert, opened the details, and leaned back.
“I recognize this device label,” he murmured.
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?””
He rubbed his beard.
“I named my laptop M. Bennett when I set it up. But the university shouldn't have access to anything except the login information.””
“Someone used it to get into my account.””
“I understand that.””
“Then who was sitting at your laptop?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he looked toward the living room.
“Vanessa was using it to pay bills that evening. I was upstairs getting ready for bed.””
My heart thudded.
“Did you give her my password?””
“No.””
“Did she have access to it?””
He looked at the screen again.
“I don't know.””
I felt my anger rise.
“You keep saying that.””
“Because it's the truth!””
His voice cracked.
He pressed both hands against the counter and lowered his head.
“I should have checked your email. I should have asked the university what happened. I should never have let her convince me that you had lost your scholarship without seeing the original notice.””
I swallowed hard.
“Why didn't you believe me?””
He looked at me.
“Because I thought Vanessa was handling things responsibly. And because I didn't want to believe there was something wrong in my own house.””
His answer hurt because it was honest.
He hadn't necessarily planned to hurt me.
He had simply found it easier to believe the person who made his life comfortable than the daughter who made him confront uncomfortable questions.
But his failure had given Vanessa room to take something from me.
“Dad, I need you to understand something,” I said.
“I'm not going to let this disappear just because she's your wife.””
He nodded slowly.
“You shouldn't.””
Before either of us could say more, the front door slammed.
Vanessa was gone.
I looked toward the entryway.
“Where did she go?””
Dad checked the window.
“Her car is still outside.””
We hurried to the front hall.
Through the sidelight, we saw Vanessa standing beside her car with her phone pressed to her ear. She paced between the driveway and the front steps, speaking too quietly for us to hear.
Then she stopped.
She looked directly at the house.
At us.
Her expression wasn't angry anymore.
It was frightened.
She ended the call, opened the driver's door, and reached into the glove compartment.
When she pulled out a small black notebook, Dad went completely still.
“What is it?”” I whispered.
He stared at the notebook.
“I've seen that before.””
“Where?””
“In my desk. Months ago.””
Vanessa opened the notebook and tore out a page.
Then she took a photograph of it with her phone.
She put the notebook back in the car and walked toward the house.
Dad stepped away from the window.
“I'm calling Officer Daniels.””
“Good.””
He retrieved his phone, but before he could dial, it vibrated again.
This time, the message came from an unknown number.
*Ask your wife why the second scholarship transfer was never deposited into your account.*
Dad's face drained of color.
I looked at him.
“Second transfer?””
He stared at the message, then slowly raised his eyes toward the front door.
The lock turned.
May you like
Vanessa was coming back inside.
And whatever she had hidden from us, it was bigger than a forged signature.