As if the neighbors might somehow see financial fraud through the windows.
My mother sat on the sofa.
My father remained standing.
I put the trust documents on the coffee table.
“Explain.”
My mother pressed both hands together.
“It’s complicated.”
“Then simplify it.”
My father stepped forward.
“Your grandmother had unrealistic ideas about money.”
I stared at him.
“She gave me property.”
“She gave a twenty-five-year-old girl responsibility she wasn’t prepared for.”
“I’m thirty.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No, Dad. That is exactly the point.”
His face reddened.
“We maintained those properties.”
“With whose money?”
He didn’t answer.
“The trust paid taxes,” I said. “The trust paid insurance. The tenants paid rent. So what exactly did you maintain?”
My mother finally spoke.
“We protected the assets.”
“From me?”
“We protected your future.”
I laughed.
“By lying to me?”
My father slammed his palm on the table.
“We made decisions you were not mature enough to make.”
There it was.
The truth.
Not desperation.
Not confusion.
Control.
I opened one of the folders.
“The commercial property has generated almost $190,000 since I turned twenty-five.”
My father looked away.
“Where is it?”
“Mia—”
“Where is my money?”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“We didn’t spend it.”
I stared at her.
“Then where is it?”
My father finally answered.
“Invested.”
“In what?”
He said nothing.
My stomach dropped.
Then I understood.
“Blake.”
Neither of them moved.
“Oh my God.”
My mother stood.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Was his company using my money?”
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Several trust funds were placed in investment vehicles connected to Harrison Development.”
I stepped backward.
“You put my inheritance into Blake’s company?”
“It was a sound investment.”
“And then spent a year trying to get me to marry him?”
My mother started crying.
“We thought it would bring everything together.”
I stared at her.
“Everything.”
“Your future. Your father’s position. The family investments. Blake cared about you.”
“Did he know?”
My father didn’t answer.
“Did Blake know the money belonged to me?”
Silence again.
That one hurt more.
