Chương 6
My hands started shaking.
Riley appeared in the hallway wearing one sock and rubbing her eyes.
“What happened?”
I showed her.
She woke instantly.
“Okay.”
She sat beside me.
“Today we get a lawyer.”
“With what money?”
“We find out.”
“I have two hundred sixty-seven dollars.”
“You have less now because you bought me fries.”
“I didn’t buy your fries.”
“You paid me back for gas last week.”
“This is not helping.”
“It’s helping me.”
She took the phone.
“Your aunt might know someone.”
I looked at Jennifer’s message.
Please call when you’re awake.
I hesitated before pressing her name.
She answered on the first ring.
“Hi.”
Her voice sounded cautious.
Not fragile.
Cautious.
“I’m awake.”
“I figured.”
Another pause.
“How bad is it?”
I looked at Riley.
“Pretty bad.”
“Did you find accounts?”
“Yes.”
Jennifer swore under her breath.
I had heard her swear maybe twice in my life.
“What kind?”
“A car loan, business credit, corporate card.”
“Jesus.”
“Do you know a lawyer?”
“I know someone from my divorce.”
“That was family law.”
“She has a colleague who handles financial fraud.”
“I can’t afford an attorney.”
“Let me deal with that part.”
“No.”
“Amber.”
“I don’t want you paying for this.”
“Why?”
Because owing people frightened me.
Because favors in my family were invoices with delayed due dates.
Because every gift from Dad had come with a future sentence beginning with after everything I’ve done for you.
I said, “I just don’t.”
Jennifer was quiet.
Then she said, “All right.”
No argument.
No wounded sigh.
No reminder of what she had offered.
“Let me ask whether they do consultations.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll text you.”
“Thanks.”
Before she could hang up, I said, “Why did Mom stop speaking to you?”
The silence changed.
“Which time?”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“The time when I was eighteen.”
Jennifer exhaled.
“She thought I was encouraging you against Jason.”
“Were you?”
“Sometimes.”
“About art school?”
“That too.”
“What else?”
She did not answer immediately.
“Money.”
I sat straighter.
“What money?”
“Your grandmother left you some.”
The apartment became unnaturally quiet.
Even Winston stopped moving.
“What?”
“Not a fortune.”
Jennifer spoke quickly now.
“Please don’t turn it into something bigger before we know the facts.”
“How much?”
“Forty thousand dollars originally.”
I stood without knowing why.
“When?”
“When Grandma Evelyn died.”
“I was sixteen.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I walked to the window.
Outside, a garbage truck groaned in the alley.
A man in a knit cap dragged recycling bins toward the curb.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Your parents were trustees until you turned twenty-one.”
“Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“I assumed they had.”
“You assumed.”
“I was told they had.”
“By who?”
“Your mother.”
I closed my eyes.
“What was the money for?”
“Education, mostly.”
“I had student loans.”
Jennifer went silent.
My RISD loans were not enormous because I had received scholarships, but they were large enough that I checked the balance every month.
Dad had complained about them constantly.
He called them the tax I paid for stubbornness.
“Maybe they used the inheritance toward tuition.”
“Then why do I still have loans?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I know.”
I heard hurt in her voice and did not care enough to stop.
“Did Grandma leave instructions?”
“There was a trust document.”
“Do you have it?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
“The attorney who handled the estate might.”
“Name?”
She gave me one.
I wrote it on the back of a takeout menu.
Before we hung up, Jennifer said, “Amber.”
“What?”
“I should have checked.”
I stared at the name I had written.
“Yes.”
She inhaled sharply.
I expected her to defend herself.
She did not.
“I know.”
The call ended.
Riley handed me coffee.
I took it without drinking.
“Forty thousand?”
“Apparently.”
“What did your parents do with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.”
I looked at the coffee.
“I just hate that phrase now.”
By eight thirty, Jennifer had arranged a consultation for eleven with a financial fraud attorney named Maya Patel.
Maya’s office was downtown.
The idea of returning toward the restaurant made my stomach tighten, but Riley drove without mentioning it.
She had changed into jeans and a green sweater and brought a notebook because, according to her, “I distrust any professional who charges by the hour and doesn’t let me take notes.”
Maya Patel was younger than I expected.
She wore navy slacks, white sneakers, and no expression of surprise while I explained the restaurant, the accounts, Scott, the lender spreadsheet, and the inheritance.
That helped.
People becoming horrified on my behalf was starting to feel like another form of spectacle.
Maya listened until I stopped.
Then she asked, “Do your parents have access to your Social Security number?”
“Yes.”
“Birth certificate?”
“Yes.”
“Old devices?”
“Probably.”
“Have you ever signed financial documents electronically at their request?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know what they were?”
“I thought I did.”
She nodded.
“Different question.”
I looked at her.
“Did you read them?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
No judgment.
Just another note on her legal pad.
“Have you ever knowingly agreed to guarantee a business loan?”
“No.”
“Co-sign a vehicle loan?”
“No.”
“Apply for a business credit line?”
“No.”
“Authorize your father to sign financial documents on your behalf after you turned eighteen?”
“I don’t think so.”
Maya put down her pen.
“That answer matters.”
My stomach tightened.
“What should I say?”
“The truth.”
“That is the truth.”
“Then say you don’t know.”
I looked away.
She continued.
“We’re not building a dramatic story.”
Her tone remained calm.
“We’re establishing facts.”
Riley’s pen paused.
Maya turned slightly toward me.
“You have enough here to take immediate protective steps.”
“Like what?”
“Freeze your credit with the three bureaus.”
“We can do that today.”
“Yes.”
“Dispute the accounts?”
“Carefully.”
I frowned.
“Why carefully?”
May you like
“Because if forged documents exist, you want copies before everyone involved understands exactly what you’re challenging.”
A chill moved through me.
