“I know.”
“You also need to consider whether to report the transfers to law enforcement.”
Aaron looked at Rebecca.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Technically.”
“Trustee duties complicate that.”
“You have an obligation to pursue recovery for Nia.”
“That does not automatically require criminal charges.”
“But the bank has already opened a fraud investigation.”
Aaron sat again.
“What happens to Jordan and Layla if Celeste is charged?”
Nobody gave him a comforting answer.
Marcus said:
“Their father could seek custody.”
“A relative could help.”
“Celeste is not automatically going to prison because of financial allegations.”
“The facts need investigation.”
Aaron closed his eyes.
He had wanted consequences at the store.
In the abstract.
Consequences sounded clean when anger was fresh.
Then consequences acquired children’s faces.
Jordan asking whether he had to quit basketball.
Layla waking from nightmares and asking when Mom was coming home.
Nia hearing every adult conversation through bedroom walls no matter how quietly they spoke.
Justice was not clean inside a family.
That did not mean avoiding it.
It meant respecting the mess.
Aaron filed for legal separation the following Monday.
Not divorce immediately.
He was not ready.
Celeste was served through her attorney.
She called him that night.
He almost did not answer.
Then he did.
“Aaron.”
“Hi.”
“You filed.”
“Yes.”
“You said you didn’t know.”
“I know more now.”
Celeste began crying.
“The accountant?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Thirty-nine thousand documented.”
Silence.
“That’s not right.”
“You can dispute the audit through counsel.”
“Aaron, listen to me.”
“I am.”
“I was going to replace it.”
He closed his eyes.
“With what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then that wasn’t a plan.”
“I thought bonuses—”
“My bonus?”
“Our money.”
Aaron almost laughed.
“You were going to replace Nia’s trust with money I earned after taking her trust?”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“That is the problem.”
Celeste’s voice sharpened.
“You act like I was buying drugs.”
“No.”
“I bought things for children.”
“You transferred eight thousand dollars to yourself.”
“For family needs.”
“You labeled it tutoring.”
Silence.
Aaron continued.
“You pawned Danielle’s jewelry.”
“Nia wasn’t using it.”
“It belonged to her.”
“It was sitting in a box.”
“It belonged to her.”
“I needed money.”
“Then ask me.”
“You would have said no.”
That ended the argument more effectively than anything else.
Aaron’s voice became quiet.
“Exactly.”
Celeste cried.
“I felt trapped.”
“By what?”
“By being the only person in the house who knew how unfair everything was.”
Aaron stared at the wall.
“Explain.”
“Nia had savings.”
“A trust.”
“Grandparents who bought her things.”
“A college fund.”
“She will never worry about money the way my children will.”
“So you made sure she worried now.”