The next morning, Troy’s wedding unfolded without me. My mother no doubt crafted a tale explaining my absence in a way that cast her as the victim. Meanwhile, Beau made calls. He arranged audits. He pulled records. He found evidence of my mother using my identity as collateral for hidden loans. He discovered Troy had been accepting funds funneled through shell accounts that indirectly tied back to Kingsley Ventures. Neither of them realized the money they leaned on was not theirs to take.
“They played you like a resource,” Beau said gently. “No more.”
Letters arrived at my mother’s house. Formal notices. Bank claims. Cease and desist orders. The illusions cracked like glass.
My phone rang again and again. Denise’s voice trembled each time she left a voicemail. “Selena, answer me. What is happening. Fix this.”
I visited her. Not to gloat. To end something.
“All those years, you made me believe I was worthless,” I told her. My voice steady for once. “Because that made it easier for you to take from me.”
For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes. Not anger. Not superiority. Fear.