PART 3

“That money was technically family money, Luca.”

I slowly pulled the phone away from my ear.

For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.

“Family money?”

“Yes,” Jessi replied, sounding increasingly irritated. “Your wife has a roof over her head because of this family. Your sister and I have been helping. We had expenses too.”

I looked at the hospital bill sitting on my lap.

Then I looked at Wendy through the glass.

My wife had nearly starved while my mother was drinking champagne beside a rooftop pool.

“Mom,” I said quietly, “you were given that money for Wendy and the baby.”

“She would have gotten it eventually.”

“She had no food.”

“She could have ordered something.”

“She had no money.”

Another pause.

Then Jessi said the words that changed everything.

“She should have called you.”

I almost laughed.

“She told me you said I was in trouble in Singapore.”

My mother went silent.

I opened my laptop.

“Funny thing,” I said. “Because my bank records show I never told you to stop the payments.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly.”

I clicked open the security system.

The recordings from our apartment appeared on the screen.

There was Wendy, barely able to stand, walking slowly toward the kitchen.

There was Stephanie opening the refrigerator.

Empty.

Then my mother entered the room carrying several grocery bags.

Not bringing food in.

Taking food out.

One bag.

Then another.

Then another.

I froze the footage.

My mother had been taking the groceries I had purchased for Wendy and the baby.

The next recording showed Stephanie unplugging the thermostat.

My jaw tightened.

Then came the bank transfer.

My mother sitting at the dining table with her laptop open while Stephanie stood behind her.

They were laughing.

On the screen was my household account.

$38,000.

I watched my mother transfer the money.

Not once.

Not twice.

Dozens of times.

Some went into an account under Stephanie’s name.

Others went to a luxury travel account.

Then I saw the final transfer.

A payment to the hotel in Miami.

I rewound the recording.

Then I played it again.

And again.

My mother had not made a mistake.

Neither had Stephanie.

They knew exactly what they were doing.

I saved every recording to three separate drives.

Then I called my attorney.

“I need an emergency meeting.”

He heard the seriousness in my voice immediately.

“Is Wendy okay?”

“She will be.”

“And the baby?”

“Stable.”

“What happened?”

I stared at the frozen image of my mother on the screen.

“My family stole money intended for my wife and newborn son.”

There was a long silence.

“Do you have proof?”

I looked at the security footage.

“I have everything.”

My attorney’s voice became calm.

“Don’t contact them again.”

I glanced at my phone.

Too late.

Another message from Jessi appeared.

You are making a huge mistake by turning against your own family.

Then another.

Come to Miami. We can settle this privately.

I stared at those words.

They still thought this was a family disagreement.

They had no idea what I had already discovered.

Because while checking the security footage, I noticed something else.

Something that made the theft look almost insignificant.

I opened a recording from three weeks earlier.

It showed Stephanie standing beside Wendy’s hospital bag.

She was talking to my mother.

I increased the volume.

And then I heard my sister say:

“Once Luca is gone, we can make sure she doesn’t have access to anything.”

My blood ran cold.

They hadn’t simply wanted the money.

They had been planning to isolate Wendy from me.

And suddenly, I understood why my mother had lied about my Singapore deal.

She hadn’t wanted Wendy to call me.

She had wanted Wendy to believe I had abandoned her.

I closed the laptop.

Then I called the police.

“I’m ready to report the theft,” I said.

“And I have video evidence.”

But before I could give them the details, my phone buzzed again.

This time, it wasn’t my mother.

It was Stephanie.

One sentence.

Luca, if you show anyone those recordings, you’ll regret what happens next.

I read it twice.

Then I smiled.

Because she had just done something neither of them realized.

She had put the threat in writing.

And now I had even more evidence.

But I still hadn’t told them the most important thing.

I hadn’t come home early by accident.

Three weeks before my return, I had already suspected something was wrong.

And there was a reason I had secretly changed my flight…

TO BE CONTINUED.