“You have no right to confiscate my property.”
“You submitted it as evidence supporting disputed electronic transfers.”
“Then make a copy.”
“We already have one.
We are preserving the original because the signature is being challenged.”
Her fingers closed around the folder.
Mr.
Patel pressed a button beneath his desk.
A security officer appeared at the glass door but did not enter.
He simply stood there with his hands folded in front of him.
Marco stared at Daria.
“Did you sign her name?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Did you?”
“She owed us money.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Daria pushed back from the desk.
“I will not sit here while your sister turns us into criminals because she suddenly regrets paying rent.”
I opened my own folder and removed the first page of a text-message transcript.
“You never called it rent until I confronted you.”
Her eyes dropped to the page.
Months earlier, after the fourth transfer, I had texted Daria to ask whether she had noticed anything strange with our grocery spending.
At the time, I still believed the missing money might be connected to household purchases.
She had answered, “No idea.
Maybe you need to track your money better.”
The next month, she sent me a message asking me to cover the water bill because she and Marco were short.
The transfer had already removed $1,300 from my account three days earlier.
Mr.
Patel read both messages.
“Why would you ask her for additional utility money if the recurring transfer was rent that included household expenses?”
Daria crossed her arms.
“Rent doesn’t automatically include utilities.”
“Then where are the rent receipts?”
“We’re family.
We didn’t issue receipts.”
“Where are the messages discussing the amount?”
“We discussed it verbally.”
“You just said there was a signed agreement.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“Both can be true.”
Mr.
Patel did not react.
He opened the bank’s internal report and slid one final page onto the desk.
“This investigation is no longer limited to unauthorized transfers,” he said.
“The document you provided may constitute evidence of forgery.”
Daria laughed, but the sound was too loud and too brief.
“You’re threatening me over a family disagreement?”
“I am explaining the bank’s obligations.”
“Fine.
Close the account.
We’ll handle it privately.”
“The account holder has already closed access and disputed the transfers.
The review cannot be withdrawn by you.”
“Then she can withdraw it.”
Daria looked at me as though she were giving an order across her own kitchen.
I remembered her standing over me while Marco looked at the floor.
I remembered the scrape of her chair, the curl of her smile, and the certainty in her voice when she told me to pack my laptop and leave.
I had spent months doubting myself.
I had examined subscriptions, bills, and receipts because believing I had made a mistake felt easier than admitting my family was taking advantage of me.
I met her eyes.
“I’m not withdrawing anything.”
Marco rubbed both hands over his face.
“How much are we talking about?”
“Eleven transfers of $1,300,” Mr.
Patel replied.
“A total of $14,300, excluding any associated fees.”
Marco went still.
“Fourteen thousand?”
Daria turned on him immediately.
“Don’t act shocked.
You benefited from it.”
His face changed.
“You told me she was paying eight hundred a month.”
That
