Chapter 4 - MY MOTHER'S SECRET
“Play it again.”
My mother’s voice came out sharply.
Luis did.
We watched the clip from the beginning.
Preston approached her near the bar.
They spoke for approximately forty seconds.
She shook her head twice.
He pointed at Sophie.
My mother grabbed his wrist.
Preston pulled away.
Then she looked toward me.
Finally she walked off.
“You knew.”
My mother spun toward me.
“No.”
“You knew he was planning something.”
“I knew he was angry.”
“About Sophie?”
“About you.”
That answer changed the room.
I stared at her.
“What does this have to do with me?”
My father interrupted.
“Barbara, stop talking.”
Claire looked at him.
“Why?”
My father’s face went rigid.
“Because this family conversation has nothing to do with you.”
Claire laughed once.
A broken, disbelieving sound.
“I married into this family today.”
She pointed toward Preston.
“Apparently that was my first mistake.”
Preston moved closer to her.
“Claire, please.”
She stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
I looked at my mother.
“What was Preston angry about?”
She lowered her eyes.
I already knew the answer before she spoke.
“The company.”
Three months earlier, I had discovered accounting discrepancies at Whitman Architectural Supply.
I was not employed by the company anymore.
I had left after Sophie was born.
But after our longtime controller developed cancer, Dad had asked me to help reconcile several accounts because I had spent twelve years working in corporate finance.
I agreed.
Within two weeks I found payments I could not explain.
Consulting invoices.
Vendor deposits.
Marketing retainers.
Nearly four hundred thousand dollars moving through companies I had never heard of.
Every suspicious payment had been approved by Preston.
When I asked him about it, he laughed.
When I asked Dad, he told me not to create problems where none existed.
So I kept copies.
Apparently Preston had found out.
“What did he say to you tonight?”
My mother folded her arms.
“He said you were trying to destroy him.”
“How?”
“He said you planned to accuse him of stealing from the company.”
Claire slowly turned toward Preston.
“Is that true?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Which part?”
He ignored me.
My mother continued.
“He said he wanted everyone to see what kind of person you were.”
“So he framed my daughter?”
“I didn’t know that was what he meant.”
“You watched him point at her.”
“I told him to leave Sophie out of it.”
My anger became almost strangely calm.
“And then when he accused her of stealing, you defended him.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I panicked.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You chose.”
“Megan.”
“You always choose him.”
She began crying.
I felt nothing.
Not because I did not love my mother.
Because I finally understood that loving someone did not require pretending their choices were accidents.
The police officer asked Preston to turn over his phone.
Preston laughed bitterly.
“You already know where it is.”
The officer looked toward the evidence bag containing the phone that had been removed from Sophie’s jacket.
“We’ll take custody of it.”
For the first time, Preston became visibly alarmed.
“That phone contains confidential business information.”
“So?”
“My company’s information.”
The officer held his gaze.
“Then you can explain that to investigators.”
Preston looked at Dad.
Again.
That instinctive glance.
That silent demand for rescue.
But this time my father did not move.
May you like
Because he had also understood something.
The phone Preston had planted to destroy an eight-year-old girl might contain evidence capable of destroying him.
