Chapter 6
I went to Aunt Ruth’s house with Marcus the next morning.
Mother let us in. Madison sat at the kitchen table, her wedding binder closed in front of her. I had never seen her leave it unopened when she had time to plan.
Aunt Ruth made coffee and then carried her own cup into the living room. She understood that the rest of us needed to talk.
Mother laid two forms on the table.
One bore my forged signature. The other had Madison’s name beneath a request for a transfer from Grandma’s trust. That transfer had paid another portion of the wedding costs.
Madison gripped the edge of the table. “I never signed this.”
“Are you sure?” Marcus asked.
She glared at him. “I know my own signature.”
“Then tell Priya.”
“I already called her.”
That surprised me. Madison looked at me, then away.
“Dad said you signed the first form,” she said. “When I saw my name on the second one, I understood what he’d done.”
Mother sat down beside her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You knew?” Madison asked.
“I knew about Sarah’s form. I found yours yesterday.”
Madison pushed back her chair. “You all knew something was wrong, and nobody told me?”
I could not let that stand.
“You knew he took money from the trust,” I said. “You told me yourself.”
“I thought he had permission.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I should have,” she said.
It was a small admission. It was also the first one she had made without defending herself.
Priya came an hour later. She spoke separately with Mother and Madison, then copied both forms. She told us the court would hear about the new records at the hearing.
Madison asked if that meant Dad would be arrested.
“I can’t promise what will happen,” Priya said. “Right now I’m trying to protect the trust and establish where its money went.”
Madison stared down at her binder.
“My wedding is in six weeks.”
Priya did not answer. There was nothing she could say to fix that.
After she left, Dad called Mother’s phone. We all watched it ring.
Mother let it stop.
A message followed.
Tell Madison I can explain her signature. Sarah is turning everyone against me.
Madison read it over Mother’s shoulder.
“He knows I’ve seen the form,” she said.
“He probably knows Priya has it,” Marcus replied.
Madison stood and walked into Aunt Ruth’s backyard. I waited a minute before following her.
She was beside the fence, staring at a row of tomato plants.
“Daniel wants to postpone,” she said without turning around.
“Does he know about the forms?”
“I told him last night. He said we should wait until we know what money is ours to spend.”
“That sounds sensible.”
“It felt like he didn’t trust me.”
“Do you trust yourself about this?”
She turned then, and I saw tears in her eyes.
“I liked the wedding,” she said. “Every time Dad offered to pay for something, I said yes. I knew you were struggling, Sarah. I kept telling myself the trust was being sorted out.”
I had imagined this conversation many times since her message at midnight. I had thought she would deny everything.
Hearing the truth did not make my cheek hurt less.
“You could have asked me,” I said again.
“I know.”
“And you could have stopped when I brought you the bowl.”
“I know that too.”
We stood there in silence. I could see the faint mark my hand had left on the back of her sash in the club footage, when I had caught myself after the slap. I wondered if she had watched the recording.
“I’m going to tell Priya everything Dad said,” Madison told me. “Even the parts that make me look bad.”
I nodded.
I was not ready to forgive her. She did not ask me to.
That afternoon, I went to my specialist’s office for a routine appointment. I had nearly canceled it because of the cost.
Dr. Chen listened while I explained why I was upset. Then she reviewed my results and told me my condition remained stable.
“You’ve been keeping up with treatment,” she said. “That matters.”
I wanted to tell her how hard it had been to do that. Instead, I thanked her and scheduled the next visit.
When I left, Marcus was waiting outside. He had offered to drive because my car needed work.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“Stable.”
He smiled. “Good.”
I had missed that simple response. No comment about my weight. No reminder of what treatment cost. Just relief that I was well.
On the ride home, Priya called. The bank had provided its first records.
Some of Grandma’s money remained, protected by the court order. Much of the rest had gone through accounts Dad controlled. Some transfers were connected to the wedding; others were older and needed tracing.
“There’s enough to make the accounting urgent,” Priya said.
After we hung up, Marcus was quiet.
“What?” I asked.
“I found some of those older transfers years ago,” he said. “I wish I’d been able to prove it then.”
“You tried.”
“I stopped coming around after Dad pushed me out.”
“I told you not to come,” I reminded him.
“I know.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence.
At my apartment, a letter waited beneath the door. Dad’s handwriting was on the envelope.
Inside was a copy of an old photograph: Grandma Joan between Marcus and me, her arms around our shoulders.
May you like
On the back, Dad had written a single sentence.
You are breaking the family she loved.
