Chapter 3 - THE SISTER WHO WAS NEVER THE FAVORITE
Chase tried to leave.
I stepped between him and the door.
“You can explain Northstar here, or you can explain it to the bank’s fraud department.”
Vivian pulled off her sunglasses.
“Chase?”
He looked at her with the impatience of a man whose private arrangement had become inconvenient.
“Your father structured the wedding costs through the company for tax purposes.”
“There are no tax deductions for a daughter’s wedding,” I said.
“It was temporary.”
“You invoiced Bennett Construction for a resort project that doesn’t exist.”
Vivian stared at him.
“You told me your investors were paying for the wedding.”
“They were going to.”
“Were there ever investors?”
Chase’s silence answered.
Vivian sat down slowly.
Her face had lost all color.
I should have felt satisfaction.
Instead, I saw my sister without the family story wrapped around her.
She was twenty-seven, polished and beautiful, but she suddenly looked very young.
Dad had always called her special.
Mom called her delicate.
Those words sounded loving, but they had kept Vivian dependent on them. Every failed job became proof she needed rescuing. Every bad decision brought money instead of consequences.
I had envied the attention.
Now I saw the cage inside it.
“How much money did you take?” Vivian asked Chase.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred and ten thousand.”
She flinched.
“For the wedding?”
“Some of it.”
I watched him.
“What happened to the rest?”
Chase looked toward the window.
I called Arthur and placed him on speaker.
“Can you trace every payment from Northstar?”
“I’ve already started.”
Chase’s composure broke.
“There’s no need to make this criminal.”
“That depends on what you did.”
He pointed at Vivian.
“Her father knew.”
Vivian stood.
“Stop saying ‘her father’ like you didn’t sit at his table last night.”
Chase laughed bitterly.
“You think Richard likes me? He likes that my name sounds respectable beside yours.”
Chase came from a family known in Chicago real estate circles, but most of their wealth had disappeared years earlier. Dad saw the last name and imagined social access.
“What did Dad get from the arrangement?” I asked.
Chase looked at me.
“A percentage of the development deal.”
“What development deal?”
“The lake property.”
My stomach tightened.
Chase had approached an investment group about demolishing my house and building twelve luxury residences along the shoreline.
The preliminary plans were already complete.
Dad promised the property would be transferred to Vivian after the wedding.
Chase planned to use it as his equity contribution.
“You were going to build on my land?”
“Richard said you were holding it for the family.”
“I own it.”
“He said you would sign when the time came.”
Vivian looked sick.
“Did you know about this?” I asked her.
“No.”
Chase scoffed.
“You knew your father was giving us the house.”
“For a wedding venue. Not to tear it down.”
“It’s an asset, Viv.”
“It’s her home.”
The words surprised both of us.
Chase reached for his coat.
“This family is insane.”
Vivian removed her engagement ring.
He stared at her.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
She placed the ring in his hand.
“That’s what they say whenever a woman notices what they’re doing to her.”
Chase’s eyes hardened.
“You’ll come back when you realize what your life costs.”
Vivian slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Then she opened the door.
“Get out.”
He looked at me as if expecting intervention.
I stepped aside.
After his car disappeared down the driveway, Vivian stood with her arms folded tightly around herself.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
“I believe you.”
She began crying.
Not elegantly.
Not like the dramatic tears she used at family dinners when she wanted attention.
She sank onto a chair and covered her face.
“I laughed last night.”
“Yes.”
“I raised my glass.”
“Yes.”
“I thought Dad was scaring you. I didn’t think he would actually cut you off.”
“He can’t cut me off. That’s why he needs me to believe he can.”
She looked at me.
“Why have you always paid for everything?”
“Because when I stopped, Dad reminded me that employees would lose their jobs. Mom reminded me you needed help. You reminded me I was selfish.”
Vivian lowered her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the first apology she had given me without adding an explanation.
I poured her coffee.
She held the mug between both hands.
“Mom knew about the development plan,” she said.
“How?”
“She kept asking me to convince you to transfer the deed before the wedding. She said it would be more romantic if Chase and I technically owned the venue.”
“Did she mention Northstar?”
“No. But she and Dad were fighting on Christmas. I heard her say, ‘If Charlotte sees the trust amendment, she’ll stop everything.’”
“What trust amendment?”
Vivian shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I did.
Our grandmother had created a family trust before she died. It held shares in Bennett Construction and several commercial properties.
I had never been given a complete copy.
Dad claimed the trust belonged equally to Vivian and me.
By noon the next day, my attorney obtained the latest amendment.
My name had not been removed.
Something stranger had happened.
The trust granted me controlling voting rights over Bennett Construction.
May you like
The change was signed six months before Grandma died.
My father had spent seven years hiding the fact that I legally controlled his company.
