Sterling opened the folder wider and removed a fourth page.
It was not another loan agreement.
It was a transfer record showing where the borrowed money had gone.
Dad stopped pretending to be amused.
Three payments had been sent from the loan accounts to the same law firm.
A fourth transfer had gone into a private settlement fund.
The dates matched the weeks when Tiffany had suddenly stopped posting photographs of her Range Rover and my parents had insisted she was taking a break from social media to protect her mental health.
Sterling placed the transfer record in front of Douglas.
“Would you like to explain this?” he asked.
Dad did not touch the paper.
“I have no idea what I am looking at.”
His voice was controlled, but one hand had closed around the edge of the fireplace mantel.
His knuckles were white.
Patricia leaned forward.
“Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding.”
“There are three misunderstandings,” Sterling said.
“All opened with her Social Security number.
All signed without her knowledge.
All routed through accounts connected to you and your husband.”
Tiffany looked from him to Dad.
“What accounts?” she asked.
It was the first time since Sterling arrived that she had sounded uncertain.
Dad turned on her immediately.
“Stay out of this.”
Sterling opened a second section of the folder.
Inside was a copy of the police report.
The photograph clipped to the front showed Tiffany under harsh station lighting, her makeup streaked beneath one eye.
Her name, the date and the vehicle description were visible on Sterling’s copy, though he kept the page angled away from her.
Tiffany stood so quickly that her knee struck the coffee table.
“You had no right to get that.”
Sterling did not raise his voice.
“It is a police record connected to funds obtained through fraudulent loan applications.”
I looked at Tiffany’s photograph, then at the transfer record.
The Range Rover had not disappeared from her posts because she wanted privacy.
She had crashed it after driving drunk.
The collision injured another driver badly enough to produce medical claims, legal fees and a private settlement that my parents had been desperate to keep from becoming public.
Tiffany’s brand launch had been built around wellness, discipline and an image of effortless control.
A DUI case would have threatened the version of herself she sold online.
My parents had decided her reputation was worth more than my future.
They had borrowed money in my name and used it to make her consequences disappear.
I heard my own voice before I felt anything.
“How much?”
Sterling gave me the full amount.
It was larger than the remaining balance on my parents’ mortgage.
Tiffany crossed her arms.
“The accident was handled.
Nobody died.”
Patricia closed her eyes.
Sterling looked directly at Tiffany.
“That is your defense?”
“I am saying it was a mistake.
The other driver agreed to settle.”
“With money stolen through your sister’s identity.”
“I did not sign anything.”
“No,” Dad said sharply.
“You did not.”
