The first reporter returned to the library shortly after Marcus finished organizing the documents.
He carried a small notebook.
The second reporter followed him with a laptop.
The third remained near the dining room, reviewing the copies Marcus had provided.
My father noticed them.
He didn't look pleased.
“Are these people supposed to be here?”
Marcus answered calmly.
“They were invited to observe the evidence and investigate the financial allegations.”
Dad shook his head.
“This is private.”
One reporter looked up.
“Then you should have considered that before bringing a forged lease to someone else's property.”
My father stared at him.
I had never heard anyone speak to my father that way.
He was accustomed to people waiting for him to finish.
He was accustomed to employees agreeing with him.
He was accustomed to relatives changing the subject when he became uncomfortable.
The reporter didn't change the subject.
He asked about the $1.8 million guarantee.
Dad said it was a misunderstanding.
The reporter asked whether I had been a shareholder in the company.
Dad said I had been involved in family business matters.
Marcus immediately corrected him.
“There is no ownership record establishing that.”
The reporter wrote something down.
Dad looked at me.
“You've made your point, Elena.”
I shook my head.
“I haven't made anything up.”
He turned away.
The second reporter asked about the refinancing.
He wanted to know whether the lender had been told I was financially responsible for the debt.
Marcus explained that the relevant records were being examined by the lender's fraud unit.
He would not speculate about conclusions that had not yet been reached.
That answer seemed to irritate my father even more.
He wanted someone to accuse him so he could accuse them of being unfair.
He wanted an argument.
Instead, he received questions.
The locksmith was still speaking with one of the officers.
He described the conversation with Nathan.
He explained that Nathan had supplied the lease and told him the owner would be away.
He also confirmed that he had been asked to open the door despite my refusal.
Nathan interrupted.
“I never said she wouldn't be there.”
The locksmith looked at him.
“You said she wasn't expected to be home.”
Nathan became quiet.
The officer asked him to let the locksmith finish.
I watched my brother move toward the window.
He looked outside at the driveway.
His two suitcases were still there.
The blue one had fallen onto its side.
He bent down and stood it upright.
It was such an ordinary movement.
For some reason, it made the entire situation feel more real.
He had packed his clothes.
He had brought them to my house.
He had expected to stay.
I wondered whether he had already told friends about his new room.
My father began speaking again.
He said the company had been going through a difficult period.
He explained that he had spent decades building it.
He mentioned employees and families who depended on the business.
The reporter asked whether the refinancing had been approved using information that accurately represented the company's liabilities.
Dad didn't answer directly.
He said the business had always met its obligations.
Marcus opened the binder to another section.
He showed the reporter the guarantee and the refinancing records.
The reporter asked whether I had ever received money from the company.
I said no.
He asked whether I had ever been involved in its management.
I said no.
He asked whether I had ever authorized my father to use my identity.
I said no again.
Three answers.
Nothing complicated.
My father looked at me with an expression I recognized from childhood.
It was the expression that meant I had embarrassed him.
I used to feel guilty whenever he looked at me that way.
That morning, I didn't.
The officer returned with a few additional questions.
He asked my father whether he wanted to provide a formal statement about the lease.
Dad said he would speak through an attorney.
That was his right.
The officer acknowledged it.
Then he explained that the documents and recordings would be preserved.
My mother moved closer to the front door.
“Can we leave now?”
The officer told her they would need to complete the necessary information first.
She looked at me.
I didn't move.
For years, I had been the person who tried to make family gatherings comfortable.
I changed subjects.
I apologized.
I made excuses.
I sent money when someone needed it.
I was not going to do those things again.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: The Christmas Suitcases Remained Outside While My Mother Asked Whether There Was Still Room for Forgiveness
My Family Remembered My Address Only After I Bought the One Thing They Could Not Afford to Lose
Part 13 of 20
