Someone added me to the family group chat.
I scrolled through the old messages.
The same people who had called me cruel were suddenly silent.
I typed only one message.
“I won’t discuss an active investigation. But the story you were told was not the truth.”
Then I left the group.
Mia appeared at my door two nights later.
She looked terrible.
No makeup.
Hair pulled back.
Eyes swollen from crying.
“I need to talk.”
“No.”
“Please.”
I almost shut the door.
Then she said:
“I didn’t know about the money.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I knew Karen had your documents.”
My stomach twisted.
She looked ashamed.
“I knew about the apartment application.”
“You knew she forged my signature?”
“She told me you’d agreed to guarantee it and then changed your mind.”
“That signature was fake.”
“I know that now.”
I stared at her.
“You still stole my furniture.”
