“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“I can have the documents ready by January 2. You’ll need to come in and sign.”
“Perfect.”
“If you don’t mind me asking—”
“It’s a family matter, Thomas.”
My voice was firm but polite.
“Let’s leave it at that.”
After we hung up, I sat in the quiet of my apartment.
Two calls. Two chains broken.
Now all I needed was Margaret’s documentation and a moment to make everyone see the truth.
New Year’s Eve was six days away.
Part 3
December 30, two days before the party. My email pinged at 7:47 p.m. From Margaret Chen, CPA.
Subject: Documentation package.
Confidential attachment: moreno_transfers_2011–2025_certified.pdf.
My finger trembled over the trackpad. I clicked.
The PDF loaded slowly. Page after page after page. Forty-seven pages total. Every single transfer listed chronologically. Date, amount, bank confirmation number, my account, their account.
March 2011, $500. April 2011, $1,000. May 2011, $1,000. January 2024, $2,000. February 2024, $2,000.
All the way through December 2025.
At the bottom of the last page, in bold:
Total transfers: $360,000.
Certified by Margaret Chen, CPA. Notarized December 29, 2025.
Daniel came home to find me at the printer.
“Is that 47 pages?”
I watched each sheet slide out, warm and real.
“Fifteen years. Every single dollar.”
He picked up the first page, read it, set it down.
“Serena, I know that’s…”
He ran his hand through his hair.
“That’s a house. That’s two kids through college. That’s everything.”
“Everything I could have had.”
I gathered the pages into a neat stack.
“Everything they said I never gave.”
I opened my leather briefcase, the one I used for important client meetings, and slid the documents inside.
My phone buzzed. An email from Thomas Reed.
Estate documents finalized. Ready for signature January 2.
One more piece of the puzzle.
Daniel watched me close the briefcase with a soft click.
“You’re really doing this.”
“They told everyone I never helped them. Daniel, they told everyone Marcus was their savior.”
I met his eyes.
“They’re having a New Year’s Eve party. Thirty relatives. And I’m going to give them all something to talk about.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I need to do this alone.”
December 31. 8:00 p.m.
Daniel idled the car outside my parents’ house. Every window blazed with light. Music thumped from inside. At least 30 cars lined the street.
“I can wait,” Daniel offered. “Just in case.”
“Give me two hours.”
I grabbed the leather briefcase from the back seat.
“If I’m not out by ten, come find me.”
“Serena.”
He caught my hand.
“Whatever happens in there, I’m proud of you.”
I kissed his cheek. Then I stepped into the cold.
The door was unlocked. I let myself in.
The living room hit me like a wave. Noise. Heat. Bodies everywhere. Cousins I hadn’t seen in years. Aunts and uncles drinking champagne. Kids running between legs.
And my mother holding court by the fireplace.
She spotted me. Her smile flickered. There, then gone.
“Serena, you came.”
She didn’t move to hug me.
“What’s with the bag? Working tonight?”
“Just some documents.”
I kept my voice light.
