Chapter 4 - The Investor Who Bought My Sister's Trust“YOU SOLD A STRANGER ACCESS TO MY PRIVATE LIFE FOR SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS, TESSA. AND NOW SOMEONE IS USING MY NAME TO STEAL FROM PEOPLE WHO TRUSTED ME!”
I didn't intend to shout.
But after Tessa's confession, the words came pouring out.
We were sitting in Dad's kitchen on Tuesday evening.
A rainstorm had settled over Raleigh, tapping steadily against the windows.
Tessa sat across from me, her long blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail.
For once, she wasn't wearing expensive makeup.
Her phone lay facedown beside a cold cup of coffee.
Dad stood near the sink, staring at the rain.
“I didn't sell anything,” Tessa whispered.
I looked at her.
“You sent a stranger screenshots from my company computer.”
“He told me it was for a business application.”
“Then why didn't he ask me?”
She didn't answer.
That silence told me more than another excuse would have.
I leaned back.
Three weeks earlier, Tessa had presented me with a plan for a glamorous recording studio.
She'd described expensive equipment, celebrity guests, and sponsorships that hadn't yet materialized.
When I'd refused to finance it, she'd treated my decision as an insult.
Now I was beginning to understand what happened next.
Mason Kline had entered her life at precisely the moment she was desperate to prove me wrong.
“He contacted me after I posted about looking for investors,” she explained.
“How?”
“Through a business networking account. His profile said he worked with independent media companies.”
“Did you verify that?”
“He had a website.”
I almost laughed.
A website.
My sister had trusted a stranger with our family's financial information because he possessed a professional-looking website.
But I swallowed my anger.
“Keep going.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“He said he liked my audience. He thought I could turn the studio into a successful production company.”
“And then?”
“He offered to cover our equipment deposit.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
The exact amount she'd requested from me.
I stared at her.
“He knew what you'd asked me for?”
Tessa hesitated.
“I might have mentioned it.”
“Of course you did.”
Her face reddened.
“He said you were probably being cautious because you worked in corporate finance. He wanted proof you had a stable job before discussing a family-backed investment.”
“So you showed him my work calendar?”
She nodded.
“And a payroll notification?”
Another nod.
I closed my eyes.
“Tessa, that isn't how legitimate business financing works.”
“I know that now.”
“Did you know it then?”
Her silence returned.
I leaned forward.
“I'm asking because there's a difference between being deceived and choosing not to care whether something is wrong.”
She stared at the table.
“I didn't want you to be right.”
The admission surprised me.
Her voice became smaller.
“Every time I talked about building something, you asked questions I couldn't answer. I felt stupid. Mason made me feel like I could actually accomplish something.”
Dad finally turned around.
“Honey, believing in yourself doesn't mean believing everything someone tells you.”
Tessa wiped her cheeks.
“He made everything sound possible.”
I looked at the cold coffee between us.
I'd always assumed my sister loved the attention of strangers more than anything else.
But underneath the perfect photographs and expensive clothing was someone terrified of being ordinary.
That didn't excuse what she'd done.
It explained why someone had been able to manipulate her.
“Where did the six thousand dollars come from?” I asked.
“Northline Creative sent it to my business account.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I paid deposits on cameras and lighting equipment.”
“How much is left?”
She shook her head.
“Almost nothing.”
Dad sat down heavily.
“Tessa, you told me you had a legitimate investor.”
“I thought I did.”
“Then why did you need a photograph of my driver's license?”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
Dad looked uncomfortable.
My heartbeat quickened.
“Dad, what did you just say?”
He stared at Tessa.
“She told me the equipment company needed identification from someone guaranteeing the lease.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“You gave her your driver's license?”
He nodded.
“A photograph.”
“And she sent it to Mason?”
Tessa covered her mouth.
I stared at both of them.
“You gave a stranger my workplace information and Dad's identification?”
“Lauren, please—”
“No. I need an actual answer.”
Tessa whispered, “Yes.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
I'd spent years being labeled controlling because I insisted on checking documents before signing them.
Now the two people who had criticized my caution had exposed both my employer and our father to a possible financial crime.
I wanted to be furious.
I was furious.
But I was also frightened.
“Dad, we need to protect your credit immediately.”
He looked bewildered.
“Do you think someone could open accounts in my name?”
“I don't know. But we can't assume they haven't tried.”
Earlier that afternoon, Rachel Lin had told me to document everything and avoid confronting anyone connected to the investigation.
So instead of messaging Mason or investigating him myself, I called Detective Serrano.
She listened carefully.
Then she gave us instructions about preserving the communications and contacting financial institutions.
Tessa agreed to provide the investigators with the information she'd retained.
Her attorney would be present for any formal interview.
Before ending the call, Serrano asked one final question.
“Tessa, when did Northline Creative send you that payment?”
Tessa checked her banking records.
“August twenty-ninth.”
There was a pause.
“Please repeat that.”
“August twenty-ninth.”
Another pause.
Then Serrano said quietly, “Don't move the remaining funds.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Detective, why does the date matter?”
“I can't discuss every detail of the investigation.”
“Was there a payroll diversion that day?”
She didn't answer directly.
But she didn't dismiss the question either.
“Lauren, I'd encourage you to let us establish the source of that money.”
After the call, Tessa looked at me.
“Do you think the six thousand dollars was stolen?”
I stared at her.
“I think that's exactly what the police are trying to find out.”
She began crying again.
This time, I didn't reach across the table to comfort her.
I wasn't trying to punish her.
I simply didn't know how to comfort someone whose choices had endangered people I might never meet.
That night, Rachel called with an update.
She'd spoken with Ellison's outside counsel about preserving records relevant to my employment investigation.
The company had agreed not to destroy any relevant audit logs, access records, or conference room footage.
It was a small victory.
Then Rachel said something that made me sit upright.
“Lauren, there's another development.”
“What?”
“The investigators believe Northline Creative may have received funds connected to the diverted incentive payments.”
I closed my eyes.
“Does that mean Tessa was paid with stolen money?”
“They haven't established the complete transfer history. But the dates are concerning.”
I looked toward the living room, where my sister sat silently beside Dad.
For years, Tessa had measured success by the expensive things she could display.
May you like
Now an entire criminal investigation might hinge on money she'd proudly spent.
And for the first time, I wondered whether the greatest damage she'd caused was something neither of us could see on a screen.
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