Chapter 2 - The Audit of Betrayal
By 9:00 p.m., the country club reception was an absolute ghost town. Half the guests had been turned away at the door, and the other half were gossiping frantically on Facebook and Instagram. Photos of the 'SOLD' sign in front of the white brick house had already gone viral among our social circle in Austin.
I didn't go home. Instead, I drove straight to my corporate office downtown. I am a senior forensic accountant and a real estate investor; tracking money and assets is what I do best. For ten years, I had allowed my love for my family to blind me, allowing them to treat my bank account like a bottomless well.
No more.
I sat at my desk, turned on my laptop, and opened a secure master spreadsheet titled The Ryan Investment Portfolio. It wasn't an investment portfolio for him—it was a meticulous log of every single dollar I had ever gifted, loaned, or bailed him out with since he turned eighteen.
The door to my office burst open. My father walked in first, followed by my mother and a completely disheveled Ryan, who had ripped off his wedding tie and looked like he had been crying.
"You have a lot of nerve sitting here working after what you did tonight!" my father roared, slamming his hand onto my mahogany desk. "Megan’s father just called me. He’s canceling the marriage license before it’s even filed with the county. He’s threatening to sue us for fraud!"
"He should sue you for fraud, Dad," I said, not even looking up from my screen. "You knowingly misrepresented Ryan's financial standing to secure a marriage with a woman from a wealthy family. That’s the definition of a con job."
"Claire, please!" Ryan begged, dropping into the chair across from me. He looked pathetic. "Megan won't answer my texts. Her brothers are threatening to come to my apartment. You have to buy the house back. Give the couple whatever they want! Give them an extra fifty thousand! Use your money to fix this!"
I finally looked up, staring my brother dead in the eyes. The same brother who, just two days ago, laughed in my face and told me I wasn't "close family" enough to sit in a church pew.
"With what money, Ryan?" I asked, a cold smile touching my lips. "Your money? Oh wait, you don't have any. Let me show you guys something."
I turned my large monitor around so all three of them could see the spreadsheet.
"Over the last seven years, Ryan, I have paid a total of $314,000 for your lifestyle. That includes your UVA college tuition loans, your Mazda car payments, your rent in downtown Austin, and three separate 'business ventures' that were actually just credit card debts from your trips to Cabo and Vegas."
My mother blinked, her face turning pale. "Claire... you’re his older sister. You’re supposed to help him get on his feet."
"He’s thirty years old, Mom! He’s not on his feet; he’s riding on my back while he kicks me in the ribs," I snapped, my voice finally losing its calm exterior. "And let's talk about you and Dad. Dad, you asked me to buy this house because you said Ryan needed a 'fresh start.' What you omitted was that you had already co-signed on a luxury boat loan with him using your retirement fund as collateral, and you needed me to bail him out so your own credit wouldn't tank."
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My father went completely silent, his jaw tightening.
"Effective immediately," I said, clicking a button on my laptop. "I am freezing the secondary credit cards authorized under my business account that you all carry. I am changing the locks on the rental condo Ryan lives in, which—in case you forgot—is owned by my LLC. Ryan, you have forty-eight hours to pack your clothes. The audit of the Hawthorne family is officially closed."
