My Dil Called Me A “selfish Hoarder” And Demanded $50k During Dinner. She Didn’t Know I Brought A Forensic Accountant As My Plus-one. Did I Go Too Far By Exposing Her Theft In Front Of Everyone?
“I’m sure Margaret would have wanted her granddaughters to have every advantage. She always struck me as someone who valued education.”
The mention of Margaret’s name felt like a hand around my throat. My wife had been gone three years, and Veronica knew exactly how to weaponize her memory.
“Mom loved them very much,”
Marcus said
quietly.
“Then it’s settled. Richard can help with tuition. What’s money for if not family?”
Veronica raised her glass to Emma’s birthday and to new beginnings. Nobody else raised their glass.
The silence stretched out, awkward and heavy. Emma looked between her mother and grandfather, confused.
My phone buzzed again—two buzzes this time. Then a text notification lit up my screen.
I glanced down, angling the phone so no one else could see. It was from James Chen, my attorney. Just two words: “She’s here.”
The Hidden Accounts and the Signal
I set the phone face down on the table. My heart was doing something complicated in my chest, but my face stayed neutral.
Years of engineering meetings had taught me how to keep my expression blank when I needed to. The main courses arrived.
Veronica’s Wagyu was presented like a work of art, pink in the middle with some kind of foam on the side. She took another round of photos before cutting into it.
“You know what your problem is, Richard?”
She’d had two glasses of wine now, and her voice had that sharp edge it got when she was building towards something.
“You’re selfish.”
Marcus put down his fork.
“Veronica, no.”
“Let me say this. It needs to be said.”
She looked at Emma and Sophie, then back at me.
“Your grandfather has more money than he knows what to do with. He lives in that old house, drives that old car, and wears the same clothes he’s had for a decade.”
“Meanwhile, his granddaughters could be getting the education they deserve, but he’d rather hoard it all like some kind of dragon sitting on gold.”
Emma’s eyes were wide. Sophie had stopped coloring.
“That’s enough,”
Marcus said,
but his voice lacked force.
“Is it? Because I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine. I’m tired of working my tail off to maintain any kind of lifestyle while your father sits on his retirement money and acts like he’s struggling.”
Veronica’s voice rose.
“Do you know what people say when I tell them my father-in-law was a senior engineer at Boeing? They assume we’re set.”
“They assume he helps, and then I have to explain that no, actually, he doesn’t, because he’s too cheap or too selfish or too whatever to help his own family.”
The room felt airless. Other diners couldn’t hear us through the frosted glass, but I could see shadows passing by, the normal rhythm of a Saturday night continuing while our table sat frozen.
“Mom, you’re scaring Sophie,”
Emma said
softly.
Veronica didn’t seem to hear her. She was looking at me now, really looking, and there was something desperate behind the anger.
“Margaret would be ashamed of you. You know that. Your wife spent her whole life being generous, being kind, and you’re sitting on her life insurance money like it doesn’t mean anything.”
That’s when my phone buzzed a third time. I picked it up and read the message: “In position. Give the signal when ready.”
I set the phone back down and looked at Veronica—really looked at her. I saw the designer dress, the jewelry, the perfectly styled hair, and the desperation hiding behind entitlement.
“You’re right,”
I said
quietly.
“Margaret was generous.”
Veronica blinked, surprised.
“I… what?”
“She was kind. She believed in helping family. She set up college funds for both girls the day they were born.”
I kept my voice level, gentle even.
“$20,000 each in accounts that can only be used for education. The paperwork is all filed with the state. Legitimate, legal, untouchable.”
Marcus’ head came up.
“Dad, I didn’t know.”
“Your mother wanted it to be a surprise—something they’d discover when they needed it.”
I turned to my granddaughters.
“Emma, Sophie, when you’re ready for college, that money will be there. Your grandmother made sure of it.”
Emma’s face lit up.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Veronica’s expression had gone carefully blank.
“That’s… that’s wonderful, Richard. Very thoughtful. But of course, private school comes before college, and the money can only be used for college.”
“I repeated, it’s restricted. Even I can’t access it.”
“Then what good is it?”
The words came out harsh and too fast. Veronica caught herself and tried to soften it with a laugh.
“I mean, they’re 10 and 8. College is years away. 10 years for Emma, 12 for Sophie.”
My phone buzzed one more time, the final message coming in now. I didn’t react.
I cut a piece of my steak and chewed slowly. Across the table, Marcus was watching his wife with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
Emma and Sophie had gone back to coloring, the tension seeming to flow past them like water around stones.
“This is ridiculous,”
Veronica said,
her voice rising again.
“You’re telling me you won’t help your son’s family with education, with opportunities, with anything? You’ll just let us struggle while you…”
The door to the private dining room opened. A woman walked in.
She was in her 40s, wearing a gray business suit and carrying a leather portfolio. She had the kind of presence that makes rooms go quiet—not aggressive, just certain.
She walked straight to our table and stopped next to Veronica’s chair.
“Mrs. Foster,”
she said.
Veronica looked up, irritated.
“I’m sorry, who are you? This is a private party.”
“My name is Diana Reeves. I’m a forensic accountant. Mr. Foster hired me six months ago to look into some irregularities with your family finances.”
She set the portfolio on the table.
“I think we need to talk.”
