Chapter 3 - The Hidden Paper Trail
I tapped the banking notification, my fingers moving quickly to open the transaction history. My heart hammered against my ribs.
Three separate charges, all timestamped within the last forty-eight hours, all routed through overseas merchants based in Denpasar, Indonesia.
Resort Villa Booking - Seminyak Luxury Suites: $2,850.00
Private Driver & VIP Airport Transfer Service: $850.00
Exotic Adventure Island Excursion Package: $580.50
They hadn't just booked flights. They had booked luxury accommodations, private drivers, and guided tours—all on my dime, assuming that once they were already in Bali on my miles, I would be too financially exhausted or guilt-ridden to dispute the hotel and activity bills. They had planned a two-week tropical holiday living like royalty, financed entirely by a brother and son who busted his back working fifty weeks a year.
I looked up from my phone. Dad was still standing in the hallway, looking utterly defeated, trying to quiet his ringing phone by shoving it into his jacket pocket.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Did you know about the resort bookings?"
He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in my questioning. "What... what resort bookings?"
"Claire charged nearly forty-three hundred dollars in luxury resort villas, private drivers, and tour packages to my credit card. Also this morning."
Dad’s eyes widened in genuine shock. He shook his head slowly. "No... no, she didn't tell me about that. She... she said the package was all-inclusive through a travel agency friend."
"A travel agency friend," I repeated bitterly. "Right. And who do you think pays when a credit card is maxed out on fraudulent overseas charges?"
Before Dad could answer, my front door swung open.
I hadn't locked the deadbolt after coming home from my morning run, and now, standing in my entryway, chest heaving and face flushed with absolute rage, was my sister Claire. She must have jumped into her car immediately after being kicked out of the LAX boarding gate, driven straight to my house, and broken the speed limit the entire way.
"Are you insane?!" Claire shrieked, slamming the front door so hard the framed pictures on the living room wall rattled. She marched down the hallway, pointing a shaking finger directly at my face. "Do you have any idea what you just did?! Fourteen of us! Standing at the international gate! Security pulled us aside like common criminals! The kids were crying! Mark nearly had a panic attack! Everyone in terminal Bradley was staring at us!"
Dad shrank back against the wall, holding up his hands. "Claire, calm down—"
"Don't tell me to calm down, Dad!" she screamed, tears of pure humiliation spilling down her cheeks. "Do you know how long we planned this? Do you know how hard it was to coordinate time off work for fourteen people? And this selfish prick," she glared at me, her voice cracking with venom, "calls the airline from the comfort of his air-conditioned kitchen and cancels the whole thing out of pure spite!"
I crossed my arms, leaning back against the kitchen counter, feeling a cold, impenetrable armor settle over my emotions.
"Selfish?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm compared to her screaming. "Claire, you broke into my desk, stole my private account credentials, forged my identity to book fourteen business-class tickets, and then stole my credit card to run up over four thousand dollars in luxury resort and tour charges in Bali. That’s not a family trip. That’s grand larceny and identity theft."
"It was just miles!" she yelled, stomping her foot on the hardwood floor. "Points you weren't even using! You hoard them like a dragon! You don't even travel internationally except for work! We just wanted a nice vacation! Mom and Dad haven't left the state in six years, and you couldn't spare a few digital numbers so your own family could have a little happiness?"
"They were for Lily," I said, my voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight that made the room instantly drop ten degrees. "Every single mile. For Lily's dream trip to Japan. A dream we have shared, planned, and talked about for three years. You didn't just take points, Claire. You stole my daughter's dream to fund a two-week party in Indonesia for people who couldn't even be bothered to ask."
Claire scoffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her face twisting into a sneer. "Oh, please. That kid is ten years old. She doesn't even know what Kyoto is. She’ll forget about Japan by next week. We are your actual flesh and blood, and you treated us like trash over a video game point system!"
"A video game point system," I repeated, letting out a short, sharp laugh that had zero humor in it. "Alright, Claire. Since you think it’s no big deal, let's talk about the four thousand two hundred dollars you charged to my business credit card for the resort villas in Seminyak."
Claire’s sneer faltered for a fraction of a second. Her eyes darted away, just for a split second, before she forced her chin back up.
"That... that was part of the package deal!" she stammered defensively. "The travel coordinator said we needed the deposit covered immediately or we'd lose the reservation!"
"The travel coordinator who happens to be your college roommate," I replied, pulling my phone up and tapping the screen. "And guess what? I just called the credit card fraud division right before you walked through my front door. Not only did I dispute the airline transaction, but I filed a formal chargeback and fraud report for all three unauthorized merchant charges originating from Indonesia."
Claire went completely white. The color drained from her face so fast she looked like a ghost.
"You... you what?" she whispered, her voice dropping from a furious screech to a terrified squeak.
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"The bank is freezing the transactions, launching a criminal fraud investigation against the merchant accounts, and issuing a brand-new card to me," I said, stepping forward until I towered over her. "Which means not only are your flights gone, but the resort is going to cancel your reservations for non-payment within the hour. If you guys want to go to Bali, you're going to have to pay for it yourselves. With real money. Out of your own bank accounts."
Claire stared at me in absolute horror, realizing the catastrophic depth of what she had done.
