Chapter 6
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother's handwriting.
You are not responsible for fixing the mistakes adults make.
For eighteen years, I had believed that being a good daughter meant forgiving everything.
Being patient.
Being understanding.
Never asking too many questions.
Now I was discovering that my silence had made it easier for people to take from me.
The next morning, Daniel called.
He had located the attorney who originally prepared my mother's trust.
Her name was Margaret Ellis.
She had retired eight years earlier.
But she remembered Rebecca.
“She was very concerned about her daughter,” Margaret told me when we met.
I sat across from her in a quiet office.
Silas had offered to accompany me.
I asked him to wait outside.
I needed to do this myself.
Margaret showed me the original documents.
The trust was real.
My mother had arranged for money inherited from her own mother to remain separate from marital assets.
After Rebecca's death, the trust named my father as successor trustee.
The money was supposed to support my education, housing, and health.
Any remaining assets would become mine when I turned twenty-five.
I was twenty-nine.
Four years past the date when I should have received the final accounting.
Margaret sighed.
“I sent several notices after your twenty-fifth birthday.”
I stared at her.
“To whom?”
“Your father's attorney. We were told you had received the information.”
I shook my head.
“I never saw anything.”
Margaret's expression saddened.
“I wish I'd known.”
Daniel asked for copies of the correspondence.
She provided them.
The records showed transfers out of the trust.
Some were legitimate expenses during my childhood.
Others were questionable.
And several large withdrawals occurred after I moved out.
I recognized one date immediately.
Felicity's twenty-first birthday.
That weekend, Patricia had thrown an enormous party.
There was a rented ballroom.
A live band.
Professional photographers.
I had contributed two hundred dollars toward the cake because Dad said the family needed everyone's help.
Now I stared at a withdrawal dated three days before the celebration.
Twenty-two thousand dollars.
I felt sick.
Another payment occurred when Felicity bought her first luxury car.
A third coincided with Patricia's kitchen renovation.
Not proof by themselves.
But enough to raise serious questions.
Daniel explained that we needed detailed bank records before establishing where the money went.
I agreed.
Then I made a decision.
“I want to confront my father.”
Daniel looked concerned.
“I recommend doing that with someone present.”
I nodded.
“Can you come?”
He agreed.
We arranged to meet Dad at his house the following afternoon.
I hadn't entered that place in nearly a year.
The last time, Patricia had invited me to Thanksgiving dinner.
Then she made me eat in the kitchen because there wasn't enough room at the main table.
Felicity arrived with four friends.
Nobody asked them to sit elsewhere.
When I walked through the front door, the same family portraits covered the walls.
Dad.
Patricia.
Felicity.
Vacations.
Graduations.
Christmas mornings.
There was one picture of me.
A school photograph from when I was sixteen.
It hung beside the downstairs bathroom.
My father waited in the living room.
He looked exhausted.
Patricia sat beside him, her expression stiff.
Felicity stood near the fireplace.
Her wedding ring glittered beneath the chandelier.
Daniel and I took seats opposite them.
Dad spoke first.
“Jenna, sweetheart, I am so sorry.”
I looked at him.
“Which part?”
He blinked.
“All of it.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Patricia sighed.
“Can we please stop treating this like a courtroom?”
Daniel remained calm.
“We're here because Jenna requested an explanation concerning the scholarship account and her mother's trust.”
Patricia leaned back.
“Oh, wonderful. Lawyers.”
I ignored her.
“Dad, did you know Patricia told Silas I was dead?”
My father stared at the carpet.
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than I expected.
I had prepared myself for excuses.
But hearing him admit it still hurt.
“Did you agree?”
He swallowed.
“I didn't stop it.”
“Why?”
Patricia interrupted.
“Because that man was going to turn your head with money and attention.”
I stared at her.
“He wanted to thank me for saving his daughter.”
“And then what?” she snapped. “You'd start thinking you were special?”
I almost laughed.
The cruelty was so ordinary to her.
So automatic.
I turned back to Dad.
“Did you sign the letter?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
My eyes filled.
“And the scholarship?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Patricia handled most of the paperwork.”
“But you signed it.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know some of the money was used for Felicity?”
He nodded.
The tears finally fell.
“Did you know I was working nights while trying to finish nursing school?”
His face crumpled.
“Yes.”
I took a shaking breath.
“Did you know I sometimes skipped meals because I couldn't afford groceries?”
He covered his mouth.
I leaned forward.
“Then tell me something, Dad.”
He looked up.
“Why was she worth helping, and I wasn't?”
He began crying.
But this time, I didn't comfort him.
He had used my kindness as a shield for years.
I wasn't doing it again.
Patricia stood.
“This has gone far enough.”
Daniel remained seated.
“Mrs. Parker, please allow Jenna to finish.”
She pointed toward me.
“You have no idea what we sacrificed raising you!”
I stared at her.
“You didn't raise me. You tolerated me.”
Her face reddened.
“You ungrateful little—”
“Stop.”
My father's voice startled everyone.
He stood.
For the first time I could remember, he interrupted Patricia.
“She has every right to be angry.”
Patricia turned on him.
“Michael!”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Your mother trusted me.”
His voice broke.
“And I failed both of you.”
I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to run into his arms and make everything disappear.
But apologies couldn't change bank transfers.
Or forged letters.
Or eighteen years of humiliation.
I stood.
“I want a full accounting of every dollar.”
Dad nodded.
“You'll have it.”
Patricia laughed bitterly.
“You're going to hand over everything because she's throwing a tantrum?”
Dad turned toward her.
“I should have done it years ago.”
Her expression changed.
For the first time, I saw real fear.
Felicity stepped forward.
“Mom, tell them about the account.”
Patricia froze.
“What account?”
Felicity looked at Daniel.
“The one in my name.”
The room went silent.
Patricia whispered, “Felicity, shut up.”
But Felicity was already crying.
“She told me it was my inheritance.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Felicity covered her face.
“Mom said your mother left money to both of us because she wanted us to be sisters.”
I couldn't breathe.
Rebecca had died before Felicity became part of our family.
There was no possible way she had left her an inheritance.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Felicity, do you have records of that account?”
She nodded.
May you like
Then she said the words Patricia had clearly been desperate to prevent.
“I brought everything.”
