Chapter 5 - BETSY'S ENVELOPE
Betsy refused to come inside until I showed her that Teresa was not there.
“She’s in jail.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you scared?”
Betsy looked toward the street.
“Because your mother gets out eventually.”
Amy stood behind me.
“That never stopped you from helping her humiliate me.”
Betsy flinched.
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
Amy’s voice was quiet.
“You do.”
Betsy held the envelope against her chest.
“I came because Connor needs this.”
I opened the door wider.
She walked into the dining room and placed the envelope on the table.
“I didn’t know everything.”
I stared at her.
“How much did you know?”
“She told me you were moving the house into a family trust.”
“I’m not.”
“I know that now.”
“What did she ask you to do?”
Betsy took a breath.
“Witness Amy’s signature.”
Amy’s expression hardened.
“You watched me sign those papers yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“You told me it was for party deliveries.”
Betsy looked ashamed.
“That’s what Teresa told me too.”
“You didn’t read it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I trusted her.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
Every person in the room had trusted Teresa.
That trust had become the tool she used against all of us.
“What’s in the envelope?”
Betsy pushed it toward me.
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“Things Teresa kept at my house.”
I opened it.
There were six documents.
The first was a draft power of attorney naming Teresa as my agent.
The second was an application for a home equity line.
The third was a proposed transfer of ownership from me to Bradley Family Holdings LLC.
The fourth was a printout showing Teresa as the manager of that LLC.
The fifth was a handwritten family tree listing me, Teresa, Mason, Betsy, and several cousins.
Amy’s name had been crossed out.
The sixth page made my stomach twist.
It was a projected distribution sheet.
HOME EQUITY: $280,000.
PAY TERESA DEBT: $120,000.
MASON: $25,000.
BETSY: $10,000.
RENOVATION: $40,000.
LEGAL RESERVE: $15,000.
REMAINDER: FAMILY ACCOUNT.
I stared at Betsy.
“You were supposed to get ten thousand dollars.”
Her face collapsed.
“I didn’t know where it was coming from.”
“But you knew you were getting it.”
“She told me it was from your refinance.”
“You never wondered why I was giving my aunt ten thousand dollars?”
“I thought it was repayment.”
“For what?”
She had no answer.
Amy shook her head.
“You all believed whatever story benefited you.”
Betsy began crying.
Amy did not comfort her.
Neither did I.
I pointed to the line beside Teresa’s name.
“What debt?”
Betsy wiped her face.
“She says you owe her.”
“One hundred and twenty thousand dollars?”
“She says she paid for your college and helped you get started.”
“My scholarships paid most of college.”
“I know.”
“My father paid the rest.”
Betsy nodded.
“I know.”
“So this was never a real debt.”
“No.”
I sat back.
There it was.
The story Teresa had probably told herself until theft felt righteous.
I raised you.
I sacrificed for you.
Everything you have exists because of me.
Therefore some portion of everything you have belongs to me.
“When did she create the LLC?”
“Last month.”
“How do you know?”
“She made me go to the bank with her.”
Amy leaned forward.
“Why?”
“She wanted a witness.”
“To what?”
Betsy hesitated.
“She deposited money.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-six thousand dollars.”
I went completely still.
Thirty-six thousand.
Twelve months.
Three thousand per month.
Every dollar I had sent Teresa for Amy and Frederick.
“She deposited my money?”
“I don’t know where it came from.”
“Yes, you do.”
Betsy looked down.
“She said you gave it to her.”
“For my wife.”
Betsy’s eyes filled again.
“She didn’t say that.”
I pulled out my phone.
I opened twelve months of transfers.
Every one went to Teresa.
Exactly thirty-six thousand dollars.
Not counting smaller amounts I had given her for Frederick’s furniture, medical co-pays, and groceries.
I looked at Amy.
She looked sick.
“That was supposed to be ours.”
“Yes.”
“I used almost twenty thousand dollars of my savings.”
“I know.”
Betsy whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Amy turned toward her.
“You watched me serve you today.”
Betsy started crying harder.
“You watched me hold a sick baby and wash your plate.”
“I know.”
“You ate lobster my husband unknowingly paid for with money that was supposed to buy diapers.”
Betsy covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Amy’s voice never rose.
“That is what you should be sorry for.”
Not the police.
Not the forged paperwork.
Not getting caught.
That.
Betsy nodded.
Then she said something unexpected.
“Mason has more.”
I looked at her.
“More what?”
“Messages.”
“What messages?”
“Teresa used a group chat.”
“With who?”
“Mason.”
“Richard.”
“And sometimes me.”
My heart accelerated.
“Do you still have it?”
Betsy shook her head.
“She made us delete everything this morning.”
Of course she did.
“But Mason saved screenshots.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“Why?”
“Because he stopped trusting her.”
“When?”
Betsy looked at the folder.
“When he discovered she was planning to blame the forged signatures on him if anything went wrong.”
That explained why Mason had looked ready to collapse.
He was not innocent.
But he had realized too late that Teresa considered everyone disposable.
“Where are the screenshots?”
“I don’t know.”
Betsy stood.
“But there’s something else you need to understand.”
“What?”
“Teresa did not plan to wait weeks to file those documents.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
May you like
Betsy looked directly at me.
“Monday morning.”
