Chapter 4 - The Part I Haven't Told You Yet
Here's the part I haven't told you yet.
When I opened my banking portal that night, it wasn't only to cancel the transfers. It was because something Trevor said on that call had snagged and wouldn't come loose. The way he said Camille's family was there. Her whole side. There had been a strange, sharp pride in it.
Before I canceled a single thing, I opened the account I'd set up years ago as the emergency family fund. I pulled the transaction history for the last eighteen months.
And then I sat very still for a long time.
The money I'd been sending had not all gone where I thought it was going.
Over the past year, several withdrawals from that fund had been routed to a joint account I didn't recognize. I went digging through an old email folder — Trevor had sent me banking details once, for a transfer — and I lined the numbers up. Once. Then again.
The account belonged to Camille and her mother. Not a household account. A personal one, in the two of their names.
Money I had wired for family emergencies had been quietly moved, a little at a time, over months, into an account Trevor's name wasn't even on. And going by the pattern of what came out of it, that money was paying for renovations on Camille's childhood home — the one her parents still lived in.
I sat with that for a long, long time.
Then I did not cancel four transfers.
I canceled everything.
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I called my bank's fraud advisory line and flagged the account. Then I forwarded every record I had to Diane Marsh, my attorney of sixteen years, in an email I sent at 12:41 in the morning.
At 12:53, I closed the laptop.
