I moved my hand before she touched me.
“We were a family when he took it.”
Her face tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No? You applauded.”
Dad looked down.
Uncle Paul cleared his throat.
“Nobody understood the legal side of it.”
I turned to him.
“You understood it was my money.”
He did not answer.
Jennifer finally put her glass down.
“Okay.
Fine.
Mike should have asked.
But this doesn’t need to become some criminal thing.”
I almost laughed.
Become.
As if the criminal part had started when my phone buzzed instead of when Mike opened an account he did not own.
Mike seized on Jennifer’s words.
“Exactly.
Tell the bank it was authorized.”
I stared at him.
He leaned forward, suddenly urgent.
“Emma, listen to me.
The money is already committed.
There are contracts.
Deposits.
If you tell them it was fraud, you could blow up the entire deal.”
There it was.
Not an apology.
Not regret.
His first concern was still the deal.
“How much of my money is actually still available?” I asked.
Mike hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than any answer could.
“How much?”
“Most of it.”
“That isn’t a number.”
“We had to move quickly.”
“We?”
“My partners.”
I felt Dad tense beside Mom.
“You transferred my money to an account controlled by people I’ve never met?”
“It’s an investment vehicle.”
“Who owns it?”
Mike’s eyes shifted toward the receipt.
His name was the receiving party listed there.
I did not need to ask again.
The phone buzzed.
This time the message was from a bank security representative asking me to confirm that I had not authorized the transfers and advising me not to contact anyone involved about moving or returning the funds independently.
I answered with one word.
No.
Mike watched my thumb touch the screen.
“What did you just do?”
“I answered a question.”
