She also possessed the unnerving ability to make even condolences sound legally binding.
Aaron explained everything.
Rebecca became very quiet.
“How much do you know is missing?”
“Bank says at least nineteen thousand at one store.”
“Other transactions?”
“I haven’t completed an audit.”
“Freeze all secondary access.”
“Done.”
“Do not confront Celeste about specific evidence again until we preserve financial records.”
“I already confronted her generally.”
“Fine.”
“Do not destroy anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not let her access your office.”
“She’s out of the house.”
“Change passwords.”
Aaron stopped.
“I know that sounds dramatic.”
“No.”
He looked toward Celeste’s empty desk.
“It sounds late.”
Rebecca softened.
“This is not the moment for self-punishment.”
“When is?”
“After we protect Nia.”
Fair.
Rebecca arranged a forensic accountant.
She also told Aaron to contact a family-law attorney independent from the trust.
“You are not required to file for divorce.”
“I know.”
“But you need advice before Celeste returns.”
Aaron looked toward the family room.
Jordan and Layla were eating cereal.
Nia sat between them.
All three unusually quiet.
“What about her kids?”
“They are not parties to the trust issue.”
“They live with me.”
“Do you have legal guardianship?”
“No.”
“Then tread carefully.”
Their biological father lived in Georgia and saw them during summers.
Celeste had primary custody.
Aaron had been their stepfather for two years.
He loved them.
Not exactly the same way he loved Nia.
He had never pretended.
But enough that the idea of them disappearing from his life hurt.
Rebecca seemed to hear that without him saying it.
“This may get complicated.”
“It already is.”
The forensic audit took three weeks.
Aaron hated every day.
Celeste remained at her sister’s apartment.
Jordan and Layla stayed mostly with Aaron because school was near the house and Celeste did not want to disrupt them.
Ironically, the temporary arrangement brought the children closer.
Without Celeste controlling every interaction, small truths emerged.
Jordan admitted Nia often gave him lunch money when Celeste forgot to add funds to his school account.
Layla admitted Nia had let her wear Danielle’s old necklace once, then took the blame when Celeste discovered it outside the locked keepsake box.
Nia admitted Jordan had secretly given her half his birthday cake after Celeste said Nia had already eaten dessert.
None of the children were enemies.
That was important.
Celeste’s favoritism had placed them into roles.
Preferred children.
Unpreferred child.
But children had resisted the roles quietly.
Not enough to stop harm.
Enough to remind Aaron that adults build systems children are then forced to navigate.
One evening, Jordan stood in the kitchen while Aaron made spaghetti.
“Can I ask something?”
“Always.”
“If Mom used Nia’s money for my basketball camp…”
Aaron turned down the stove.
“Yes?”
“Do I have to quit?”
The question surprised him.
“No.”
Jordan looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because the camp already happened.”
“And you didn’t know where the payment came from.”
“What if Nia wants the money back?”
“She deserves the money back.”
Jordan’s face fell.
Aaron continued.
“That is between adults.”
“Not you.”
“I could pay.”
“With what?”
“My birthday money.”
“No.”
“But—”
“Jordan.”
Aaron leaned against the counter.
“You are not responsible for reimbursing Nia because your mother used the wrong account.”
“Do you understand?”