Chapter 7
Felicity placed a thick white envelope on the coffee table.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Patricia stared at her daughter as though she had committed an unforgivable betrayal.
“Put that away,” she whispered.
Felicity shook her head.
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“I'm done.”
I had never seen my stepsister look frightened of her mother before.
Not openly.
Felicity had always seemed confident.
Beautiful.
Untouchable.
Now her mascara was streaked, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
“I thought the money was mine,” she told me.
I didn't answer.
She opened the envelope.
Inside were bank statements.
Investment account summaries.
And copies of transfers.
Daniel began reviewing them.
Within minutes, his expression became grim.
“These records indicate substantial funds were placed in an account controlled by Patricia.”
Patricia stood abruptly.
“You have no right to inspect my private finances!”
Daniel looked up.
“Felicity voluntarily brought records from an account held in her name.”
Patricia pointed at Felicity.
“After everything I've done for you!”
Felicity flinched.
I watched her reaction.
For one strange second, I recognized myself.
Not the glamorous bride who laughed at me.
But a frightened daughter trying to earn her mother's approval.
That didn't excuse what she'd done.
It explained something I had never understood.
Patricia had taught both of us that love came with conditions.
The difference was that Felicity had been rewarded for obeying.
I had been punished for existing.
Daniel separated several statements.
“These deposits appear to correspond with transfers from Jenna's trust.”
My father sank onto the sofa.
Patricia's face drained.
Felicity stared at the papers.
“Mom?”
Patricia said nothing.
Felicity took a step backward.
“You told me Grandma left that money.”
“Felicity—”
“You said Jenna's mother wanted us both taken care of.”
Patricia reached for her.
Felicity pulled away.
“Did you lie to me too?”
Patricia's expression hardened.
“Everything I did was for this family.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
I stood slowly.
“You did it because you thought nobody would stop you.”
Patricia's eyes flashed.
“You've always been jealous of my daughter.”
I felt almost sorry for her.
Even now, with documents spread across the table, she could only see the world as a competition.
“This isn't about jealousy.”
I pointed toward the statements.
“This was my mother's money.”
Then I looked at Dad.
“And you let her take it.”
He nodded, crying silently.
Daniel gathered the documents.
“We'll verify these records and determine the proper next steps.”
Patricia laughed.
“You think a few pieces of paper mean anything?”
Daniel met her gaze.
“They may mean quite a lot.”
I left the house without another word.
This time, Dad didn't try to stop me.
Outside, Silas was waiting beside his car.
He had offered to drive me home.
One look at my face told him enough.
“Bad?”
I nodded.
“Worse than I expected.”
He opened the passenger door.
I climbed inside.
For several minutes, we drove in silence.
Then I asked something that had been troubling me.
“Why did you really keep searching for me?”
Silas glanced toward me.
“Because Naomi never stopped asking about you.”
I looked down.
“And because of my wife,” he added.
I turned.
“Your wife?”
He nodded.
“Evelyn died when Naomi was eleven. She spent her final weeks reminding me that money means nothing if we don't use it to help people.”
His voice softened.
“After Naomi's accident, I promised myself I would find the girl who saved her.”
He hesitated.
“When I received the letter saying you had died, I felt as though I'd failed twice.”
I watched the streetlights pass.
“You didn't fail.”
“Neither did you.”
I looked at him.
He smiled sadly.
“You've spent years thinking you weren't enough for your family.”
My eyes filled.
“But Jenna, you were enough for a frightened little girl trapped in a sinking car.”
I began crying quietly.
Silas didn't try to stop me.
He simply drove.
The next week moved quickly.
Daniel hired a forensic accountant.
Silas's foundation began an independent review.
The trustees contacted their insurers and outside counsel.
Financial investigators examined scholarship disbursements.
My mother's trust records were reviewed separately.
I gave statements.
Signed authorizations.
Answered painful questions.
I learned that money could disappear quietly over many years.
A transfer here.
A false invoice there.
A tuition payment that benefited the wrong person.
Nothing dramatic on its own.
But together, the records formed a pattern.
Meanwhile, Adrian contacted me.
I almost ignored his call.
Then I answered.
“Jenna, I wanted to apologize.”
I sat on my couch.
“For what?”
“For standing there while Felicity insulted you.”
I didn't know what to say.
He continued.
“I should have spoken up.”
“You barely knew me.”
“That doesn't make it acceptable.”
I appreciated the honesty.
He hesitated.
“Felicity and I have separated.”
My stomach tightened.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
He sounded tired.
“I married someone I thought I knew.”
I looked toward the window.
“Maybe she doesn't know herself.”
Adrian sighed.
“Maybe.”
He paused.
“I hope you understand that none of this is your fault.”
I closed my eyes.
There were those words again.
Words I desperately needed to hear.
After we hung up, I received an unexpected visitor.
Felicity stood outside my apartment.
No designer dress.
No perfect makeup.
Just jeans, a gray sweater, and swollen eyes.
I almost closed the door.
“Please,” she whispered.
“I only need five minutes.”
I hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
She entered my apartment.
Her eyes moved across the small living room.
The secondhand furniture.
The books stacked beside my sofa.
The framed picture of my mother.
Felicity started crying.
“I didn't know you lived like this.”
I stared at her.
“You never asked.”
She covered her face.
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she looked at me.
“I have something to tell you about the wedding.”
I crossed my arms.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Mom told me to make sure Silas didn't get close enough to speak to you.”
My heart started pounding.
“Why?”
“Because she knew he might recognize you.”
I stared at her.
Felicity continued.
“She told me to introduce you as unstable. To make people think you exaggerated things.”
The room seemed to shrink.
So that was why.
The rehearsal dinner.
The comments.
The carefully arranged humiliation.
It had all been preparation.
“You were helping her hide the truth.”
Felicity nodded.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
“Then why are you telling me now?”
She reached into her purse.
And pulled out a photograph.
It showed me at seventeen.
Standing outside our house.
My hair wet.
My wrist bandaged.
My face pale from shock.
On the back was a handwritten note.
A note in Patricia's handwriting.
Keep this hidden. If Montgomery ever finds her, everything changes.
May you like
Felicity handed it to me.
Then she whispered, “I found something else in Mom's safe.”
