Chương 7
"I was across the world."
"That is not the same thing."
I did not understand what she meant.
She noticed.
"You called every chance you got."
"I should have called more."
"David."
She turned toward me.
"You can't punish yourself for things you didn't know."
I wanted to believe her.
But the truth was more complicated.
I did not know.
That was true.
But I also did not ask enough questions.
I trusted because trusting was easier than imagining the people I loved could hurt the person I loved most.
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
"Tell me you found something."
"I did."
I stood up and walked away from Gwen.
"What is it?"
"Your mother wasn't just moving money."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"What does that mean?"
"She created records."
"What kind of records?"
"Paperwork showing expenses connected to the house."
"That doesn't sound illegal."
"It might not be."
The answer frustrated me.
"But?"
"But some of those expenses were exaggerated."
"How?"
"Contractors."
I frowned.
"What about them?"
"I contacted one company listed on the paperwork."
"You contacted them?"
"I have connections."
"Marcus."
"Relax."
I ignored that.
"What did they say?"
"They said they completed repairs worth around twenty thousand dollars."
"Okay."
"The documents submitted from your mother's account show the work cost almost sixty thousand."
I stared at the yard.
"Someone added forty thousand dollars?"
"Looks that way."
I closed my eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"David, I don't make accusations without checking."
I believed him.
That was one reason I trusted him.
Marcus was the opposite of everyone in my house.
He did not rush to be right.
He cared about being accurate.
"Anything else?"
There was a pause.
"Yes."
"What?"
"The company owner remembered something."
I waited.
"He said your wife came by during the repairs."
"Gwen?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"She asked why the work was costing so much."
A cold feeling moved through me.
"What happened?"
"According to him, your mother told her not to worry about things she didn't understand."
I looked toward the house.
Gwen had known.
Not everything.
But enough to know something was wrong.
"Did she tell me?"
Marcus was quiet.
"No."
The answer hurt.
Not because Gwen hid something.
Because I understood why.
She had been trapped between fear and isolation.
"There's more," Marcus said.
I almost laughed.
There was always more.
"What now?"
"Your mother used your money to pay off a credit card."
"Whose?"
"Paige's."
I closed my eyes.
"For what?"
"Mostly personal expenses."
I looked through the window.
Paige was walking into the kitchen.
She looked relaxed.
Like the world had not changed.
"When can you send me everything?"
"I already did."
My phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
Files.
Documents.
Records.
I looked at them.
Then I saw the date.
One of the largest transfers happened three weeks after Gwen's biopsy.
I stared at the screen.
Three weeks after the diagnosis.
My mother moved money.
Not toward treatment.
Away from it.
I walked inside.
Gwen followed behind me.
She saw my face.
"What happened?"
I showed her the message.
She read silently.
Then she sat down.
Not dramatically.
Not crying.
Just sitting.
That scared me.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"I knew they didn't help me."
She touched the screen.
"But I didn't know they were taking money while I was sick."
I wanted to say something.
Anything.
But there was no sentence big enough.
A few minutes later, Paige walked into the room.
She stopped when she saw us.
"What?"
Nobody answered.
I turned the phone toward her.
"Did you know?"
She looked at the screen.
Then at me.
"Know what?"
"That money was being moved while Gwen was waiting for treatment."
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"I didn't handle the accounts."
"That isn't what I asked."
She crossed her arms.
"You are blaming me because you are angry."
"Are you going to answer?"
She looked at Gwen.
Then away.
"I knew Mom was helping."
"Helping."
The word sounded strange.
"Was she helping when she bought jewelry?"
Paige's face hardened.
"You don't know what Mom sacrificed."
I stared at her.
"What did she sacrifice?"
She opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Because there was no answer.
"She raised us," Paige said finally.
I nodded slowly.
"And I spent four years paying for everyone."
Her expression changed.
"That's not fair."
"No?"
"No."
Her voice became sharper.
"You were gone."
The words hit me.
Not because they were true.
Because they were the same words my mother used.
"You were gone."
Paige continued.
"You don't know what it was like here."
I looked at Gwen.
Then back at my sister.
"You're right."
She seemed surprised.
"I don't."
I stepped closer.
"But I know what it was like for Gwen."
Nobody spoke.
"She was sick."
Paige looked down.
"She was scared."
Still nothing.
"She was my wife."
Her eyes moved toward Gwen.
Something flickered there.
Not guilt exactly.
Maybe discomfort.
Maybe shame.
Then it disappeared.
"I thought Mom knew what she was doing."
That sentence changed something.
Because it was not a denial.
It was an excuse.
And excuses were what people used when they could no longer pretend nothing happened.
"Did Mom tell you not to tell me?"
Paige looked away.
The silence answered.
I felt Gwen's hand touch my arm.
Not to stop me.
To remind me she was there.
"How long?"
Paige swallowed.
"I don't know."
"Try."
She sat down.
The confidence left her face.
"After the biopsy."
My stomach tightened.
"She told you after the biopsy."
"Yes."
"And you said nothing."
Paige looked at the floor.
"I thought she would tell you."
"You thought?"
She wiped her face quickly.
"I don't know, David."
It was the first vulnerable thing she had said.
"I thought Mom was protecting everyone."
I looked at her.
"And now?"
Paige did not answer.
That silence was different.
May you like
The silence of someone realizing the story they believed might not be true.
My mother appeared in the hallway.
