Chapter 2 - The BackupClaire was still in the office when Emily heard a car enter the driveway.
Her father was home.
Emily looked at the clock.
6:14 p.m.
He had said he would not return until after seven.
For the first time all evening, Emily felt relief.
Then she heard the office door open downstairs.
Claire’s footsteps moved quickly toward the foyer.
By the time Emily reached the top of the stairs, Claire had transformed herself.
The fury was gone.
The panic was gone.
She was smiling.
Emily watched her father enter carrying his laptop bag.
“Hey,” he said. “What happened to trick-or-treat duty?”
Claire crossed the foyer and kissed his cheek.
“Your daughter and I had a disagreement.”
Emily’s relief disappeared.
Her father looked upward.
“Em?”
She came downstairs slowly.
Claire stood beside him.
The red dress suddenly looked less like a costume and more like armor.
“What happened?”
Emily stopped six feet away.
“She spent my school money.”
Her father frowned.
“What?”
Claire exhaled dramatically.
“Here we go.”
Emily took out her phone.
“I recorded her.”
Her father’s eyes shifted to Claire.
Claire folded her arms.
“She secretly recorded an argument and now she’s trying to turn one angry sentence into some kind of criminal confession.”
“It wasn’t one sentence.”
“Emily,” her father warned gently.
That tone hurt.
Not because he was angry.
Because he was already trying to calm her before hearing the evidence.
Emily unlocked the phone.
Claire stepped forward.
“She’s thirteen. She has no understanding of how household finances work.”
“Then explain it,” Emily said.
Her father raised a hand.
“Everybody stop.”
He looked exhausted.
“Emily, play it.”
Claire stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Emily pressed play.
The room filled with Claire’s recorded voice.
“The account your dad saved for your college? I spent it all.”
Her father’s expression changed.
The recording continued.
“But that’s my school money…”
“School? This house needs money. A girl like you will do the same anywhere.”
Emily watched her father.
His confusion became disbelief.
Then Claire’s next words filled the room.
“Who do you think he’ll believe—a child, or his wife?”
The recording ended.
Silence.
Her father looked at Claire.
“What account?”
Claire laughed once.
It sounded forced.
“I was being sarcastic.”
“You said you spent it.”
“I was angry.”
“On what?”
Claire pointed toward Emily.
“She came at me accusing me of sleeping with someone.”
Emily’s father looked at his daughter.
“That’s separate.”
“Is it?”
Claire’s voice sharpened.
“She has been hostile to me for months.”
Emily stared.
“You’re changing the subject.”
Claire ignored her.
“You told me I needed to build a relationship with her. I tried. I drive her everywhere. I deal with the school. I handle the bills while you disappear on business trips.”
“I asked you what happened to the education account.”
Claire’s face tightened.
“It’s complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“The money was moved.”
“To where?”
“The household account.”
Her father stared at her.
“Why?”
“We had expenses.”
Emily looked toward the shopping bags.
Claire saw her do it.
“So now clothing is evidence?”
“You came home with thousands of dollars of stuff.”
“You don’t know what it cost.”
Her father looked at the bags.
Then back at Claire.
“How much did you move?”
Claire hesitated.
That hesitation changed the entire room.
Emily’s father placed his laptop bag on the floor.
“How much?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You transferred money from my daughter’s education savings and you don’t remember how much?”
“Our money.”
“No.”
His voice was suddenly quiet.
“That account was for Emily.”
Claire folded her arms.
“You gave me access.”
“I gave you access to pay the school.”
“And I manage this house.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Claire looked away.
Emily watched her father’s face.
He was no longer trying to keep the peace.
He was afraid.
He walked toward the home office.
Claire followed.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Tonight.”
“You don’t trust me now because a thirteen-year-old baited me into an argument?”
Emily felt something inside her twist.
Her father stopped.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make her responsible for what you said.”
Claire stared at him.
Then she smiled bitterly.
“You’re choosing sides very quickly.”
“I’m choosing a bank statement.”
He entered the office.
Emily remained in the doorway.
Her father sat at the computer and opened the banking portal.
Claire hovered behind him.
“Password changed,” he said.
Claire’s face remained still.
“What?”
“The education account login.”
“I don’t know.”
He tried again.
“Changed three weeks ago.”
Claire shrugged.
“Maybe the bank reset it.”
Her father took out his phone and called the customer service number from the back of his bank card.
Emily listened.
He verified his identity.
Waited.
Asked for the balance.
His face slowly lost color.
“How much?”
Claire looked toward the hallway.
Emily saw it.
Her father grabbed a pen.
“When?”
He wrote several dates.
“Transfers to where?”
Another pause.
His pen stopped.
“The joint checking?”
Claire closed her eyes.
Emily’s father looked up.
“How much was transferred out?”
The answer came through the phone.
He repeated it quietly.
“Fifty-two thousand dollars?”
Emily forgot how to breathe.
The room seemed smaller.
Claire moved first.
“I can explain.”
Her father raised one hand.
He was still listening.
Then his expression changed again.
“There were four transfers?”
He wrote.
Twenty thousand.
Nine thousand four hundred.
Seventeen thousand six hundred.
Five thousand.
He stared at the numbers.
“Where did the twenty thousand go after it hit checking?”
The bank representative answered.
Emily’s father wrote two words on a yellow pad.
ASTER HOLDINGS.
He thanked the representative and hung up.
Claire’s face had become unreadable.
Emily’s father turned the paper around.
“What is Aster Holdings?”
Claire did not answer.
Emily looked at the name.
She had never seen it before.
But she had seen something similar.
On a business card.
On Claire’s dresser.
Two weeks earlier.
Beneath the name of the man Emily had seen Claire meeting at a restaurant.
ADRIAN MERCER.
Aster Property Group.
Emily lifted her eyes.
“I know who that is.”
May you like
Claire turned toward her so quickly that she knocked a pen from the desk.
And Emily understood from her expression that she had just opened the second door.
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