Chapter 7 - Two Versions of the Truth
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Julian stared at me, his eyes widening as the realization hit him that his carefully constructed narrative was crumbling in front of his mother and my father.
“Audio file?” Julian stammered, stepping forward. “You recorded me in our own bedroom? That’s illegal!”
“Actually,” Dad interrupted, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative register he used in bank boardrooms, “in this state, consent laws do not apply when documenting a felony assault inside one’s own residence. But we aren't here to debate criminal evidence today, Julian. That will happen in court.”
Eleanor turned slowly toward her son, her expression shifting from confusion to profound suspicion.
“Julian,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling slightly. “Did you touch her?”
“Mom, she’s setting me up!” Julian shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “She’s trying to ruin our plans because she’s selfish! She knows how important it is for us to consolidate our assets right now!”
“Consolidate assets?” I interjected, pulling my second phone from my pocket and holding up a printed document. “Or cover the thirty-eight thousand dollars you illegally transferred out of a fraudulent account opened in my name?”
Julian went completely rigid.
The color drained from his face so fast he looked almost faint. He stared at the piece of paper in my hand as if it were a venomous snake.
Eleanor looked between us, her brow furrowing deeply. “Thirty-eight thousand dollars? What account, Audrey? What is she talking about, Julian?”
“It’s nothing, Mom!” Julian snapped defensively. “It’s a business transaction!”
“A business transaction using my stolen identity,” I corrected. “Transferred directly to an entity called Westbridge Development Group.”
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When the name Westbridge left my mouth, something extraordinary happened. Eleanor didn't look at me or Julian. She turned her head instantly and looked directly at my father.
And for the first time that morning, I saw genuine terror in her eyes.
