Chapter 3 - The Sister’s Defense
"That's a ridiculous lie!" Fiona snapped, her voice rising an octave as she tried to salvage her professional reputation in front of her retreating customers. "George said he hired a nanny service! He told us you were just being an overprotective military mother!"
"A nanny service," I said, my eyes locking onto hers with a glare that forced her to take an involuntary step backward. "The refrigerator upstairs has nothing in it except a half-lemon and mustard. My daughter has a hundred-and-two-degree fever from eating dry cereal for two days straight while your brother was out drinking at the beach with his friends."
Fiona’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted anxiously toward the back office door of the salon.
I didn't wait for her to invent another lie. I reached across the counter, grabbed her high-end tablet linked to the salon's cash register and management portal, and tapped open the financial transaction log.
It took me less than ten seconds to find what I was looking for.
A direct transfer of twenty-four thousand dollars, dated yesterday afternoon, wired straight from my personal savings account into the salon’s commercial improvement fund.
"You didn't just use my house for your business, Fiona," I whispered, holding the tablet up so she could see the screen clearly. "You and George stole my savings to remodel your floorboards and buy new pedicure chairs."
"We were going to pay it back!" Fiona shrieked, panic finally breaking through her defiant facade. "George said it was a temporary bridge loan! He said your military paychecks were piling up and you wouldn't even notice!"
"You're about to notice what a compliance audit looks like, Fiona," I said, slipping the tablet into my coat pocket. "Pack up your polish. This commercial space is part of my Aunt Ellen's deeded property, and as of right now, your lease is terminated."
Before Fiona could scream another protest, my phone buzzed again.
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It wasn't a bank alert this time. It was a incoming call from George.
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