After investigators contacted the office, she forwarded it to the lender and agreed to provide a sworn statement.
That was the recording now playing live.
My father rushed toward the news van, but an officer stepped between him and the equipment.
“Turn that off,” he ordered.
The producer did not move.
A second segment began.
Paige’s voice trembled through the speakers.
“Mr.
Vance, this application uses your daughter’s Social Security number.
Without authorization, that could be identity theft.”
My father answered, “By the time anyone investigates, Natalie’s career will be over.
She’ll withdraw the complaint before she lets the Navy hear about it.”
The lawn became silent again, but this silence was different from the one inside the church.
That silence had been abandonment.
This one was recognition.
The police officer looked at my father.
“Did you report that Commander Vance confessed to hacking your accounts?”
“She did confess.”
“When?”
“On the phone.”
“Do you have the recording?”
My father hesitated.
I answered for him.
“The only recorded call is included in the folder.
I told him the lender had frozen connected accounts after my fraud report.
I never said I accessed them.”
The officer read the transcript.
My father attempted to interrupt twice.
Each time, the officer raised one hand without looking up.
Grant finally spoke.
“Dad said Natalie offered to pay the deposit.”
I turned toward him.
“Did I ever say that to you?”
He looked at the cameras, then at our father.
“No.”
“Did you know the account was opened in my name?”
He swallowed.
“He said it was family credit.”
There was no such thing, and Grant knew it.
Marissa’s car stopped at the curb before he could say more.
She stepped out wearing office clothes and holding a thick envelope.
Grant’s expression changed immediately.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“The venue called me,” she said.
“They froze our reservation after the payment was flagged.”
She held up the envelope.
Inside were copies of the deposit paperwork.
The application listed Grant as the beneficiary and my father as the financial representative.
A signature resembling mine appeared beneath a statement authorizing the debt.
It was not my signature.
Marissa looked at Grant.
“You told me Natalie gave this to us as a wedding gift.”
Grant opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
My mother finally lifted her face.
“Martin said Natalie would understand.”
