Chapter 2 - The Night in the Rain
Liam threw the second bag out before I moved. Then the third. My father still didn’t get up. My mother actually laughed when Brittany asked whether my room came with the dresser.
I picked up my suitcase, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and took Aunt Evelyn’s photo from the top bag before the rain could soak it. My hands were shaking, but my voice came out strangely calm. “You drained my account and threw me out in the rain.”
“Oh, please,” Mom snapped. “Don’t act like some victim.”
Liam leaned against the doorway. “You’ll land on your feet. You always do.”
He shut the door in my face.
I stood on the porch under the hard, icy rain for maybe ten seconds, maybe a full minute. It was enough time to feel the betrayal settle into my bones. Then I pulled out my phone and called the only person I could think of.
Tasha, one of the other NICU nurses, answered on the second ring. “Em? What happened?”
I hadn’t meant to cry, but hearing one kind voice did it. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
“Say less. I’m texting you the gate code.”
At Tasha’s apartment, I sat at her kitchen counter wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies while she made me tea and listened without interrupting. When I finished, she stared at me for a long moment and said the exact thing I needed someone sane to say.
“Emily, that’s not family drama. That’s theft.”
At eight the next morning, I called the bank. I expected a maze of automated options and a bored fraud representative. Instead, after the account number was verified, the woman on the line went quiet.
“Ms. Harper,” she said carefully, “this account is not classified as an ordinary personal checking account.”
“What does that mean?”
She paused. “It’s attached to an active fiduciary trust. There is already a fraud flag on the withdrawal activity from last night.”
My grip tightened around the phone. “What trust?”
“The Evelyn Monroe Educational Trust.”
I stared at the wall. Aunt Evelyn had helped me open that account two years before she died. She had called it my future fund and waved me off every time I asked too many questions.
“There’s also a trustee contact on file,” the banker continued. “He asked to be notified immediately in the event of unauthorized access.”
“Who?”
“Daniel Mercer, attorney-at-law.”
May you like
Ten minutes later, my phone rang.
“Emily?” a man said in a crisp, controlled voice. “This is Daniel Mercer. I was your Aunt Evelyn’s attorney. I believe your family just made a very serious mistake.”
