I put on my reading glasses and scanned the documents. The numbers didn’t lie. The two hundred thousand dollars hadn’t gone to the principal of the loan. It had been funneled into a separate account, and from there, it was a horror show of spending. Luxury handbags, five-star resort trips she claimed were “work retreats,” and massive deposits for wedding vendors.
“She didn’t put the money down, Arthur,” Marcus said, his voice trembling. “She put down the minimum—three percent. She kept the rest. And now that money is almost gone, and we’re about to lose the roof over our heads.”
“I can’t marry her,” Marcus said, tears finally spilling over. “Not like this. I love her, but I can’t build a life on lies.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You can’t. But we are going to fix this. Not with money, but with the truth.”
We drove to the house together. It was a beautiful colonial I had been so proud to help them get. The lights were on. I used my key to let us in. Vanessa was in the living room, surrounded by bridal magazines, sipping a glass of wine.
She looked up, annoyed. “Dad? What are you doing here? Marcus, I thought you were picking up dinner.”
“We need to talk, Vanessa,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
She rolled her eyes. “If this is about the wedding budget again, save it. I deserve this day, Dad. You have millions sitting in the bank doing nothing.”
“It’s not about the wedding,” Marcus said, stepping forward. He threw the foreclosure notice on the coffee table. “It’s about this.”
Vanessa’s face went pale. She stared at the paper, then up at us. “I can explain,” she stammered. “It was just a mix-up with the bank.”
She stood up, defensive now. “So what? It was my money! You gave it to me! I wanted to enjoy my life while I’m young, not wait until I’m old and boring like you. I was going to pay the mortgage back after the wedding. We would get cash gifts!”
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