“Really?” Aunt Carol sounded surprised. “But she seems to be doing so well.”
“All show.”
Mom’s voice dripped with contempt.
“You know how she is. Always had her nose in the air. Too good for her own family. We raised her for 18 years, fed her, clothed her, and she owes us. But does she care? No.”
I pressed my back against the counter, tried to breathe.
“That’s terrible.”
“Thank God for Marcus.”
Mom sighed.
“He’s the one who takes care of us every month without fail. He understands what family means. Marcus always was the sweet one.”
“Exactly. Serena’s just, well, you know. Selfish.”
The word sliced through me.
Selfish.
$360,000.
One hundred eighty months of automatic transfers. Never missing a single one. Not when I was sick. Not when I lost clients. Not when Daniel and I were saving for our wedding.
Selfish.
I set my glass down slowly, carefully, so it wouldn’t shatter, because I wanted to shatter. I wanted to march in there and scream the truth until my throat bled.
But something stopped me.
Daniel’s voice in my head.
We need proof.
I pulled out my phone, found a contact I hadn’t called in months. My finger hovered over the name.
Margaret Chen, CPA.
I pressed call.
The cold December air hit my face as I stepped onto the back porch. The phone was already ringing.
“Serena?”
Margaret’s voice was warm but confused.
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Is everything okay?”
I closed my eyes, drew a breath.
“I need documentation of every transfer I’ve made to my parents. The full 15 years.”
Silence on the line.
“That’s a lot of records.”
“I know.”
“Can I ask why?”
I watched my breath fog in the winter air. Inside, I could hear laughter, Christmas music, the sounds of a family that had been lying about me for years.
“They’re telling people I’ve never helped them.”
My voice was steady, calmer than I felt.
“They’re giving my brother credit for everything. I need proof, Margaret. Official records.”
Another pause.
“I can pull certified bank statements going back 15 years. Have them ready by the end of the week.”
“I need them before New Year’s.”
“That’s—”
She stopped herself.
“Okay. I’ll make it work. You want everything notarized?”
“Everything. I want it so official that no one can question it.”
“Serena.”
Her voice softened.
“That’s a significant amount of money. Do you realize? $360,000?”
I cut her off.
“I know exactly what it is. And soon everyone else will, too.”
We hung up. I stood there a moment longer, watching my breath disappear into the darkness.
The door opened behind me.
“Serena.”
Mom’s voice, sweet as sugar.
“What are you doing out here? Come inside. It’s freezing.”
I turned to face her, the woman who had just called me selfish to my aunt.
“Just a work call, Mom.”
She shook her head.
“Always working. That’s your problem.”
I smiled and followed her inside.
Not for long.
December 26, the day after Christmas. Daniel had gone back to work. I sat alone in our apartment staring at my phone.
One call down. One more to make.
I found Thomas Reed’s number, my estate lawyer. We’d met two years ago when Daniel and I finally got around to making wills. Back then, I’d listed my parents as secondary beneficiaries, just in case.
“Reed Law Office. How can I help you?”
“Thomas, it’s Serena Everett.”
“Serena, happy holidays. What can I do for you?”
I didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“I need to make changes to my estate documents, my will, and my life insurance beneficiaries.”
A brief pause.
“What kind of changes?”
“I want to remove my parents from everything.”
Paper shuffled on his end. I pictured him pulling up my file.
“Currently, your husband Daniel is primary beneficiary. Your parents, Harold and Diane Moreno, are secondary. You want to remove them entirely?”
“Yes. Replace them with…”
I thought for a moment.