Chapter 3: The Woman Who Wanted My Future
My father's hand remained on the edge of the table.
He read the email once.
Then he read it again, slower.
Ethan stood beside him, his face drained of color.
I felt as if someone had opened a door beneath my feet.
"That's Mom's email address," Ethan said.
"I didn't know she'd contacted the university.""
Dad looked up.
"Why did you receive this email?""
"I didn't. It's in the shared family inbox. Mom linked it to my phone because she said she needed me to help with applications.""
"Did you open it before tonight?""
"No.""
Dad turned the phone toward me.
The complaint was short, carefully worded, and devastating.
It claimed that I had concealed a substantial financial asset from Westbridge University. It suggested that my scholarship application might contain inaccurate information. It requested an immediate review before the award became final.
The final paragraph was what made my stomach twist.
The sender had written that she was acting to protect the university's integrity and ensure that scholarship resources were allocated fairly.
Fairly.
I pressed my fingers against my lips.
"She was trying to get my scholarship taken away.""
Dad's expression turned grim.
"Yes.""
"But she knew I didn't have access to that money.""
"Yes.""
"She knew I didn't even know how much was in the account.""
He closed the laptop.
"I think we need to speak to a lawyer.""
Ethan looked at him sharply.
"A lawyer? Dad, it's an email.""
"It's an allegation that could cost your sister her education.""
"But Mom probably thought she was doing the right thing.""
I turned toward him.
"How could that possibly be the right thing?""
Ethan's cheeks flushed.
"I didn't say she was right. I'm saying maybe she was worried about the money.""
"What money?"" I asked.
"Money I can't touch? Money Mom left for me? Money that has nothing to do with the scholarship?""
"Stop shouting.""
"I'm not shouting!""
My voice cracked against the kitchen walls.
Ethan took a step back.
For once, he didn't have an immediate answer.
Dad raised a hand.
"Both of you, stop. This isn't about guessing what your mother intended. It's about finding out what she actually did.""
He looked at Ethan.
"Forward that email to me. Don't delete anything, and don't reply to anyone.""
Ethan obeyed.
Dad then called the bank.
I sat at the table while he verified his identity and requested the complete transaction history for my college savings account. He asked for copies of every beneficiary change request, every authorization, and every communication received over the past year.
The bank representative placed him on hold.
The kitchen clock ticked.
Ethan paced beside the refrigerator, checking his phone every few seconds.
I watched the envelope containing my torn scholarship letter.
A few hours earlier, I had imagined celebrating with takeout pizza and a call to my best friend, Hannah. I had even planned what I would write beneath a photograph of the award letter.
Instead, my future had become a file number.
When the bank representative returned, Dad's face grew tense.
"You're saying another request was submitted last month?""
He listened.
"Understood. Was any money transferred?""
Another pause.
"Thank you. Please email the documentation securely.""
He ended the call and remained still for several seconds.
"What did they say?"" I asked.
"The attempted transfer was rejected. But it wasn't the only request.""
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"What do you mean?""
"Someone submitted a second application to change the account's beneficiary. The bank rejected it because the supporting documents were incomplete.""
Ethan shook his head.
"Mom said she'd never touch the account again.""
Dad looked at him.
"When?""
Ethan hesitated.
"After the first time you asked her about it.""
"So she knew the bank had rejected the request.""
"Apparently.""
Dad rubbed his jaw.
"What she did next is what concerns me.""
He turned his laptop back on and opened the university email.
"Someone used information about Claire's account to accuse her of hiding assets. The bank rejected the transfer, but the university doesn't know that yet.""
I swallowed.
"Can we prove it?""
"We can request the bank records and submit them to the university. But I want everything documented before we contact Vanessa.""
Ethan sat down heavily.
"She's going to lose her mind when she finds out we saw that email.""
I looked at him.
"You're worried about her reaction?""
"I'm worried about what happens when everybody starts accusing everybody else.""
I almost laughed.
"She accused me of fraud. She ripped up my letter. She grabbed me hard enough to leave marks on my wrist. And now you're worried that she'll be upset?""
Ethan stared at the table.
"I'm not saying what she did was okay.""
"Then say that.""
He looked up.
"What?""
"Say she was wrong.""
His mouth opened, then closed.
For several seconds, I thought he wouldn't do it.
Finally, he whispered, "She was wrong.""
It wasn't much.
But it was the first time Ethan had ever said those words about his mother in front of me.
Dad received the bank documents less than an hour later.
He printed them in the study and asked us to join him.
Vanessa was still upstairs.
The study smelled of leather, old books, and the coffee Dad had forgotten to finish that morning. On his desk lay a thick folder containing my mother's estate documents, my college account statements, and the letter Dad had received from the bank months earlier.
He placed three pages in front of us.
"The first request was submitted in July," he said.
"The second was submitted in September.""
I studied the dates.
The first request had arrived just weeks after I received an email from Westbridge confirming that my application was complete.
The second had been filed shortly before the university notified me of my scholarship decision.
"She knew I was applying," I said.
Dad nodded.
"She knew you were applying. She knew the account existed. And she knew she couldn't legally redirect the funds without proper authorization.""
Ethan picked up the second page.
His eyes moved down the form.
"That's my name.""
Dad nodded.
"The proposed beneficiary was Ethan Bennett.""
Ethan shook his head rapidly.
"I didn't sign this.""
Dad looked at him carefully.
"Are you certain?""
"Yes! I never signed anything to take Claire's money.""
He placed the form down as if it had burned his fingers.
"I swear, Dad.""
I wanted to believe him.
Part of me did.
But another part remembered every time Ethan had accepted something that belonged to me because Vanessa had decided he deserved it more.
New clothes.
Private lessons.
The bedroom with the larger window.
The last slice of birthday cake.
He had never asked where those things came from.
Perhaps he had never needed to.
Dad examined the signature on the form.
"Someone may have copied your name from another document," he said.
"We'll have the bank preserve the originals.""
Ethan sat down.
"Is Mom going to jail?""
"No one is making that determination tonight.""
"But you think she did it.""
Dad's silence answered him.
Ethan covered his face with both hands.
For the first time, he looked less like the golden child of our family and more like a frightened eighteen-year-old who had just discovered that the person he trusted most might have been lying to him.
I sat opposite him.
"Ethan, did she ever say anything about my scholarship?""
He lowered his hands.
"Not directly.""
"What does that mean?""
He looked toward the study door.
"About a month ago, she asked whether Westbridge had contacted you. I told her you were still waiting.""
My heart thudded.
"What did she say?""
"She said it would be a disaster if you got a scholarship.""
I stared at him.
"Why?""
Ethan swallowed.
"She said Dad would spend all his time worrying about you leaving. She said the house would become a place where everybody celebrated your achievements while nobody cared what happened to me.""
I looked away.
I had never known Vanessa felt that way.
I had never known she had been counting my successes as losses for her son.
"Did you agree with her?"" I asked.
Ethan shook his head.
"I told her it wasn't fair to think like that.""
"And then?""
"She said I didn't understand what was at stake.""
The words made the room feel smaller.
"What did she mean?""
"I don't know.""
But he looked as though he wanted to say more.
Dad noticed, too.
"Ethan," he said gently, "if there's anything else, now is the time to tell us.""
Ethan rubbed his palms against his jeans.
"She said that if you left for Westbridge, Dad might sell the house.""
I blinked.
"What?""
Ethan looked at me.
"She said you and Dad would probably move closer to the university, and then she'd have nowhere to go.""
Dad's expression darkened.
"I never said that.""
"I know. I know that now.""
"Did she tell you she was trying to transfer Claire's money?""
"No.""
"Did she ask you to help her contact the university?""
"No.""
Ethan hesitated.
Then he added, "But she asked me to keep an eye on your emails.""
The words seemed to echo.
I stood up.
"You what?""
"I didn't read them! I swear. She said you might need help checking your application, and she wanted me to tell her if anything important came through.""
"You were supposed to spy on me?""
"I didn't do it!""
"But you agreed.""
Ethan's face crumpled.
"I didn't think it was like that.""
I stared at him, furious and hurt.
"You never think it's like that. You just let her decide what's okay, and then you act surprised when somebody gets hurt.""
He looked down.
For once, he didn't defend himself.
Dad stepped between us before the argument could grow.
"That's enough. Ethan, go to your room. Claire, stay here with me.""
Ethan left without another word.
I sank into the chair.
"How long has she been doing this?""
Dad pulled up a second document on his laptop.
"I don't know. But I want to look at something your mother left behind.""
He opened a scanned copy of my mother's will.
I had seen it once when I was younger, though I hadn't understood most of the legal language. Mom had wanted to make sure I could afford college even if she wasn't there to help me.
Dad scrolled to a section near the end.
"Your mother established a protected education fund," he explained.
"The money was intended for your education, and I was named the trustee.""
I nodded slowly.
"I remember the blue folder.""
"There's another provision here. If your education fund is ever used for an unauthorized purpose, or if someone attempts to redirect it for another beneficiary, the trustee must notify the estate's attorney.""
I looked at him.
"Did you do that?""
"Not yet. I wanted to make sure I had the facts.""
He tapped the page.
"There's also a clause about your stepmother.""
My pulse quickened.
"What clause?""
Dad leaned closer to the screen.
"Your mother anticipated that family circumstances might change after her death. She specifically prohibited any person who wasn't named in the will from controlling the fund.""
I thought about Vanessa's hand closing around my scholarship letter.
"She couldn't take the money even if the bank had accepted the request.""
"Not without legal authority.""
"So why would she risk everything?""
Dad stared at the document.
"That's what we're going to find out.""
A sharp knock sounded at the study door.
Before either of us could answer, Vanessa entered.
She had changed out of her lounge clothes and was wearing a cream blouse, gold earrings, and the expression she used whenever guests came over.
Her gaze landed on the documents.
Then on my face.
"Daniel," she said, "we need to talk privately.""
Dad closed the laptop.
"Anything you need to say can be said here.""
Vanessa's smile tightened.
"This is between husband and wife.""
"No. It concerns my daughter, her scholarship, and her college account.""
She looked at me with open resentment.
"Claire, would you mind giving us a moment?""
"No," Dad answered before I could speak.
"She stays.""
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
"Fine.""
She set her handbag on the desk and pulled out a folded document.
"I know you've been looking into the bank account.""
Dad didn't move.
"How?""
"The bank contacted me because my name appeared on the original paperwork.""
"Your name appeared on the rejected transfer request, too.""
For the first time, Vanessa lost her composure.
Only for a second.
Then she recovered.
"I was trying to help Ethan. He needs financial support, and Claire has always been the one who gets everything handed to her.""
I stared at her.
"Everything handed to me?""
"You have no idea what it's like to raise a child who constantly feels second-best.""
"I lost my mother when I was eight!""
My voice broke.
"I spent years trying not to make things difficult for you. I worked for everything I have. And you still couldn't let me have one good thing.""
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
"Don't use your dead mother as an excuse to make me look cruel.""
Dad stood so abruptly that his chair scraped the floor.
"Do not speak about her mother that way.""
Vanessa took a step back.
Then she lifted the folded document.
"You're both making a terrible mistake. I have proof that Claire's scholarship application was misleading. If the university sees what I have, they'll revoke the award themselves.""
My blood turned cold.
Dad held out his hand.
"Give me the document.""
She hesitated.
Then she placed it on the desk.
It was a copy of my scholarship application, including a financial disclosure page.
At the bottom was a signature.
Mine.
I stared at it.
The handwriting looked almost exactly like my own.
But I had never signed that page.
Dad leaned over the document.
"Where did you get this?""
Vanessa smiled.
For the first time that evening, her confidence returned.
"From the university's records.""
"That's impossible," Dad said.
"You don't have authorization to access her application.""
"Perhaps you should ask your daughter why she submitted a false declaration.""
I shook my head.
"I never saw that page before.""
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Then why is your signature on it?""
I looked closer.
There was a small date printed beside the signature.
It was the day I had been home alone with Vanessa while Dad was on a business trip.
The day she had asked me to leave my school documents on the kitchen table so she could help organize them.
I remembered her taking the folder upstairs.
I remembered asking for it back.
And I remembered her telling me she'd put everything away safely.
My mouth went dry.
"Dad," I whispered, "I didn't sign that.""
He studied the document.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
"Where is the original?""
She tilted her head.
"Why would that matter?""
"Because this is a copy. And the date is three weeks before Claire submitted her final application.""
Vanessa's smile faltered.
Dad reached for his phone.
"I'm calling the university's financial aid director. We'll verify the document, the submission history, and every person who accessed the application.""
"Don't you dare.""
The words came out of Vanessa's mouth before she could stop them.
Silence filled the room.
Dad slowly lowered his phone.
"Why not?""
Vanessa looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something more dangerous than anger in her expression.
She knew something I didn't.
Something about that signature.
Something about the application.
And whatever it was, she was terrified that the university would discover it.
Dad's phone began ringing.
The screen displayed an unfamiliar number.
He answered and put it on speaker.
"Daniel Bennett speaking.""
A woman's voice came through, crisp and professional.
"Mr. Bennett, this is Margaret Ellis, the financial aid director at Westbridge University. I'm calling regarding Claire's scholarship application.""
My fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
"Yes," Dad said.
"We've been trying to reach your office.""
"I understand. We've reviewed the financial concern submitted by an outside party, and we've identified a serious discrepancy in the supporting documents.""
Vanessa went completely still.
Dad's voice sharpened.
"What kind of discrepancy?""
The woman paused.
Then she said, "The signature on the financial declaration appears to have been submitted using credentials associated with an adult family member, not the student.""
My heart hammered.
Dad stared at Vanessa.
"Which adult family member?""
Another pause.
"We're still verifying the identity. However, Mr. Bennett, there's something else you need to know.""
I leaned closer to the phone.
"What?"" I whispered.
The director continued.
"The person who submitted the financial complaint also requested that Claire's scholarship be redirected to another applicant.""
Dad's face turned white.
"Redirected to whom?""
Vanessa backed toward the door.
The woman's answer came through the speaker.
"Ethan Bennett.""
May you like
And as my stepmother reached for the doorknob, the director added one final sentence.
"Unfortunately, the request included a document that appears to have been signed by Claire herself—authorizing the transfer.""
