Chapter 2 - THE BIRTHDAY GIFT THAT WASN'T HERS
“She has probably been hiding this while everybody else has been struggling.”
My sister said those words while holding documents she had stolen from my locked apartment.
And my father nodded.
That was the moment something inside me changed.
Not because Sophia had betrayed me. She had been crossing my boundaries since we were children.
But because my parents were looking at evidence of a crime and seeing an opportunity.
“Give me the packet,” I said.
Sophia pulled it against her chest.
“Seriously, Lena? You're embarrassing yourself.”
“You entered my apartment without permission.”
Mom immediately straightened.
“Don't make accusations at your sister.”
“Then explain how she got my work documents.”
Nobody answered.
I looked directly at Sophia.
“Did you open the gray pouch?”
Her expression shifted.
Only slightly.
“What pouch?”
“The one with the numbered seal.”
Dad waved his hand.
“For heaven's sake, Lena. Stop acting like you're guarding nuclear secrets.”
“Those papers are part of an active federal investigation.”
The room went quiet.
Sophia gave a nervous laugh.
“Oh, please.”
“I'm not joking.”
My cousin Adam stopped eating his cake.
Dad leaned back in his chair.
“Then why would federal papers be in your apartment?”
“Because I'm an authorized forensic analyst working on a restricted assignment. I don't get to discuss the details at your birthday party.”
Sophia's eyes flickered toward the packet.
I noticed something else.
The top pages were no longer in their original order.
She had been through them.
Thoroughly.
“Who else has seen these?” I asked.
“Twelve people sitting around this table, apparently,” Adam muttered.
Sophia shot him a look.
“I mean outside this room.”
She hesitated.
Then Mom said something that made my stomach drop.
“Sophia only wanted someone to look at the numbers.”
I turned slowly.
“What someone?”
Mom looked at Sophia.
Sophia looked at Dad.
Finally, my sister sighed.
“Nolan Pierce.”
I recognized the name.
Nolan was a commercial mortgage broker who had worked with Sophia's marketing agency.
“What did you send him?”
“A couple pictures.”
My heart began pounding.
“Of these documents?”
“He understands investments.”
“Sophia. Answer me.”
“Yes!”
She slammed the packet onto the table.
“I sent him the first few pages. Are you happy?”
I wasn't.
I was suddenly terrified.
Because the first pages contained account identifiers that were never supposed to leave authorized custody.
I took my phone from my pocket.
Dad stood.
“Don't you dare make some dramatic scene over your sister's birthday.”
I looked at him.
“She broke into my home, took restricted material, and transmitted it to someone outside the investigation.”
“She made a mistake.”
“No. A mistake is taking somebody's umbrella.”
Sophia's cheeks reddened.
“You've always loved making me look stupid.”
I almost laughed.
She was thirty years old.
She had stolen evidence from a federal investigation.
And somehow I was still the cruel sister.
I retrieved the packet without touching the exposed pages, photographed its disturbed condition for the incident record, and stepped into the hallway.
Using my employer's secure reporting system, I documented the breach, including Sophia's admission and Nolan's name.
Then I waited for instructions.
When I returned, the cake had been cut.
Someone had turned the music back on.
My family was trying to continue the evening as though nothing serious had happened.
Dad approached me beside the kitchen counter.
“Listen,” he said quietly. “Your sister has had a difficult year.”
“I know.”
“Her business needs capital.”
“That doesn't give her the right to steal.”
He lowered his voice.
“There's no reason we can't discuss helping her.”
I stared at him.
“With money that isn't mine?”
“With whatever resources are available.”
It was such a familiar sentence.
When Sophia needed a car, resources were available.
When Sophia needed help with rent, resources were available.
When I worked two jobs through college, apparently there weren't any resources left.
Dad touched my shoulder.
“We're family.”
I stepped away.
“Then start treating me like a member of it.”
Forty minutes after Sophia first lifted the packet, two federal investigators arrived at the house.
Special Agent Camille Foster introduced herself, followed by financial-crimes investigator Robert Ellis.
Neither raised their voice.
They didn't need to.
Foster asked who had opened the evidence pouch.
Sophia raised her hand.
Then Foster asked who had photographed the pages.
Sophia raised her hand again.
Finally, Foster asked why controlled investigative material had been sent to Nolan Pierce.
My sister's face lost its color.
“I thought it was my sister's investment account.”
Foster studied her.
“Who told you that?”
Sophia didn't answer.
Dad stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous. My daughter didn't know what she was doing.”
“Mr. Callaway,” Foster said, “we're establishing what happened. Please let her answer.”
Mom began crying.
“Are you going to arrest her?”
“We're not making any such announcement tonight.”
Foster looked toward me.
“Ms. Callaway, please don't discuss the underlying case with anyone here. We'll arrange a formal interview.”
I nodded.
Then Ellis examined something on his tablet.
His expression changed.
“Agent Foster?”
She moved beside him.
They exchanged a quiet sentence.
Then Foster looked at my parents.
“Before we continue, I need to ask about a commercial loan secured against this property.”
Dad stiffened.
“What loan?”
Mom gripped the back of a chair.
Foster continued.
“According to the recorded documents, a new mortgage was filed last Thursday.”
Sophia whispered, “Mom?”
My mother looked at the floor.
May you like
And Agent Foster asked the question that ended the birthday party.
“Mrs. Callaway, why did you put your home up as collateral for a transaction connected to Nolan Pierce?”
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