Chapter 7 - The Web of Deception
The kitchen erupted into chaos once more.
""A charity raffle?!"" Dad bellowed, staring at his wife. ""You told him you won a raffle?!""
""Diane told me the exact same thing!"" Greg yelled, dropping his leather bag onto the floor. ""Three weeks ago, Megan came home and said Diane had won a four-night VIP Christmas package at Palmetto Crown, and all we had to do was cover our gas and tips! I didn't want to go! I told Megan we couldn't afford a holiday trip this year because my quarterly bonus got deferred to March!""
He spun around to face Megan, his eyes wide with shock. ""You lied to me? You charged this on your sister's card behind my back?!""
Megan shrank back against the refrigerator, cornered from every angle. ""Greg, we needed this trip! You've been miserable for six months! Everyone at your office goes to the island for Christmas! If we stayed home, everyone would know your division missed its targets!""
""I don't care about the island, Megan!"" Greg shouted, running both hands through his hair in utter disbelief. ""I care about the fact that you just committed credit card fraud using your sister's account!""
""It wasn't fraud!"" Megan shrieked, tears streaming down her neck. ""Sarah gave Mom the card! Mom let me use it!""
""Sarah gave the card to her mother for medical expenses five years ago!"" Dad cut in, his voice shaking with contempt. ""And you used it to buy designer dresses and country club memberships so you could pretend you were millionaires!""
Greg sank onto the edge of the kitchen bench, burying his face in his hands. He was a proud man, often overly concerned with appearances, but unlike Megan, he possessed a basic grasp of legal and financial reality. He knew exactly what this meant.
""Sarah,"" Greg said, lifting his head. His face was completely pale. ""I swear to God, I had no idea. If I had known for one second that Megan was using your money, I would have put a stop to it immediately. I knew things were tight, but she told me her parents were gifting us money from an old inheritance.""
""There is no inheritance,"" Dad said bitterly. ""My parents were farmers. Diane's parents worked for the post office. Every dime Megan spent came out of Sarah's pocket.""
I looked at Greg. I could see the genuine shock and shame in his posture. He wasn't a saint—he had certainly enjoyed the benefits of the lavish lifestyle without asking too many questions—but he wasn't the architect of this scheme.
""I believe you, Greg,"" I said quietly. ""Which is why I'm giving you and Megan thirty days.""
Megan looked up sharply, her eyes swollen. ""Thirty days for what?""
""Thirty days to secure a personal loan and pay me back the thirty-five thousand four hundred dollars that was spent directly on your lifestyle,"" I said, tapping the black binder. ""The car repairs, the boutique clothes, the private club dues, and the tuition top-ups.""
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""Thirty-five thousand dollars?!"" Megan gasped. ""We don't have thirty-five thousand dollars! We can't get a loan for that amount! Our debt-to-income ratio is already maxed out!""
""Then you sell the Audi,"" I said without an ounce of hesitation. ""You sell your jewelry. You pull the kids out of the private academy and put them in the public school down the street, which is where they should have been all along. Because if that money is not wired into my business account by January 25th, I am walking into the Chatham County Sheriff's Department with this binder, every single signed receipt, and a sworn statement of unauthorized fraud.""
