Chapter 6 - THE SIGNATURE THAT COULD RUIN MY CAREER
My younger sister hadn't just been taking money from me.
She'd used my name.
And according to my mother's handwritten note, somebody had discovered it.
I sat at my desk with the old invoice open on one screen and the bank statement on the other.
Micah stood behind my chair.
“Don't assume you know what happened,” he said.
“I know my mother wrote that Dalia copied my signature.”
“Yes. But we don't know why.”
I hated that he was right.
Four years earlier, I'd completed a consulting project for a regional logistics company.
The work involved reviewing operating expenses and recommending ways to reduce waste.
It wasn't glamorous.
But it had paid well, and the client had been happy.
I remembered Dalia asking about my work around that time.
She'd been eighteen.
Interested in business.
Always telling people she wanted to become successful like her older sister.
I hadn't thought much of it.
Now I wondered what she'd taken from those conversations.
I searched my old project files.
The original contract was there.
So were the invoices.
But the reference number on the collections payment wasn't part of the client's legitimate account.
It appeared in an email attachment I'd received from a contractor who'd helped with administrative work.
That contractor's name was listed as the recipient on the suspicious payment record.
I stared at the screen.
“Micah, somebody created a separate billing request using my project number.”
He leaned closer.
“Could it have been a mistake?”
“Maybe. But not with my sister's signature involved.”
The next morning, I called the former client's accounting department.
I didn't accuse anyone.
I asked whether there had been any unresolved invoices or disputes associated with the project.
A supervisor named Patricia remembered the account.
She said the project was closed and paid.
Then she paused.
“Actually, there was one unusual issue.”
My stomach tightened.
“What issue?”
“A duplicate reimbursement request was submitted after the project ended.”
“By whom?”
“I can't give you someone else's personal information without reviewing our records.”
“Was it submitted under my name?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did your company pay it?”
“No. We flagged it as suspicious.”
“Then why would anyone owe money?”
Patricia explained that the request had involved supporting paperwork from an outside contractor.
That contractor claimed to have advanced funds for business expenses and later sought repayment.
The dispute had eventually been referred outside the company.
She offered to send me the documents I was entitled to receive.
I thanked her.
After the call, Micah sat beside me.
“What are you going to do?”
“Talk to Dalia.”
“Alone?”
I shook my head.
“No. Somewhere public.”
I texted my sister for the first time since the wedding.
We need to talk about the reimbursement request connected to my old consulting project. I'm not discussing your apartment or tuition until we do.
She replied within a minute.
Mom told you?
My heart sank.
No. I found the records.
There was a long pause.
Then:
Please don't call anyone else.
I looked at Micah.
He read the message.
Neither of us spoke.
I asked Dalia to meet me at a coffee shop the next morning.
She agreed.
When I arrived, she was already sitting in a corner booth.
She looked nothing like the woman in the gold dress who'd destroyed my wedding cake.
Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail.
Her eyes were red.
There was a paper cup in front of her that she hadn't touched.
For a second, I wanted to hug her.
That instinct frightened me.
Because I knew how easily concern could become rescue.
I sat down.
“Tell me what happened.”
She stared at her hands.
“I didn't mean for it to get this big.”
“What did you do?”
“I was trying to start a business.”
I waited.
“At eighteen, I thought I could do what you did. I found someone online who said he could help me launch a consulting service.”
“Who?”
“Gavin Mercer.”
I recognized the name.
He was the contractor listed on the disputed invoice.
My stomach dropped.
Dalia continued.
“He said I could learn by helping with billing paperwork. He told me your old project files were examples of how to run a business.”
“How did he get them?”
She swallowed.
“I sent him some.”
I stared at her.
“You took my files?”
“I copied them from the laptop you let me use that summer.”
I remembered.
She'd needed a computer for a class.
I'd given her my old work laptop after removing what I believed were the sensitive materials.
Apparently, I'd missed an archived folder.
“What did you sign?”
Dalia rubbed her eyes.
“He said we needed proof of a client relationship to secure startup funding. He made a form with your name on it.”
“And you signed it?”
She nodded.
“I thought it was just for his records.”
“Dalia.”
“I know.”
“Did you actually read it?”
“Not properly.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He used the documents to request reimbursement for expenses that never happened. When the client questioned him, he said I was responsible.”
My pulse hammered.
“So he demanded money from you?”
She nodded.
“He threatened to report everything as fraud.”
I sat back.
“And Mom paid him?”
“Not at first.”
She explained that Gavin had been contacting her for months.
He claimed the repayment would settle the dispute.
Mom discovered the situation last winter after Dalia broke down during dinner.
Instead of telling me, Mom began moving money.
My parents' contributions.
The education reserve.
Money she'd quietly persuaded me to send.
Eventually, she paid the $12,600.
I felt sick.
“Why didn't you come to me?”
Dalia finally looked up.
“Because you would've hated me.”
I stared at her.
“I would've been angry. That's different.”
“You don't understand what it's like being compared to you.”
I almost laughed.
“Dalia, you signed my name on a financial document.”
“And you always did everything right!”
Her voice rose.
A couple at the next table glanced toward us.
Dalia lowered it.
“Every family dinner was about Vera's promotion. Vera's new client. Vera bought a house. Vera's getting married. And I couldn't even finish one semester without falling behind.”
I watched her carefully.
For the first time, I understood that admiration had slowly become resentment.
But understanding didn't excuse what she'd done.
“You had the right to struggle,” I said. “You didn't have the right to use my identity.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“I know.”
“Then why destroy my wedding?”
She looked away.
“Mom told me you refused the car because you were tired of carrying me.”
“I was.”
“Then she said maybe getting married meant you didn't need us anymore.”
I went still.
“Mom said that?”
Dalia nodded.
“She didn't tell me to ruin your wedding. But she kept saying you were changing.”
I thought about my mother hugging Dalia beside the destroyed cake.
Maybe she'd understood more of that explosion than I'd realized.
Dalia pulled something from her purse.
A small silver bracelet.
I recognized it immediately.
I'd given it to her when she graduated high school.
Engraved inside were the words:
I'm always in your corner.
She placed it between us.
“I wanted to return this.”
I stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because I don't think I deserve it anymore.”
I looked at the bracelet for a long time.
Then I pushed it back.
“Keep it.”
Her face changed.
“Vera—”
“It doesn't mean I'll pay your bills. It doesn't mean I'll forgive what happened overnight.”
I met her eyes.
“But I meant what I wrote. Being in your corner doesn't mean protecting you from consequences.”
She began crying harder.
And for the first time, I didn't rush to stop her.
I stood to leave.
Then Dalia grabbed my hand.
“There's something else.”
I stopped.
Her face had gone white.
“Gavin didn't just use your old files.”
“What do you mean?”
“He contacted me again after Mom paid him.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because he said the payment only covered what I owed.”
She looked directly at me.
“And he said he still has a contract with your signature on it.”
“What contract?”
May you like
Dalia's lips trembled.
“One that says you personally guaranteed a hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
