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?
The color drained from Veronica’s face.
“I… what? Marcus, who is this woman?”
Marcus was staring at Diana, then at me.
“Dad?”
“Let her speak,”
I said
quietly.
Diana opened the portfolio. Inside were documents, spreadsheets, and highlighted bank statements.
“Six months ago, Richard noticed that the college accounts he’d set up for Emma and Sophie were showing unusual activity—small withdrawals, always just under the reporting threshold. He asked me to investigate.”
“That’s absurd,”
Veronica’s voice shook.
“Those accounts are protected. You said so yourself, Richard.”
“Protected from me,”
I said.
“Not from someone with power of attorney.”
Diana pulled out a document and placed it in front of Marcus.
“Your wife acquired power of attorney over the girls’ accounts two years ago, shortly after your mother passed away. She told the bank it was necessary for estate planning purposes.”
Marcus picked up the document with shaking hands. I watched him read it, watched understanding dawn slowly, then all at once.
“Over the past 22 months,”
Diana continued,
“Veronica has withdrawn approximately $78,000 from these accounts. The money was transferred to personal accounts and credit cards in her name.”
“That’s a lie,”
Veronica said,
but her voice had gone thin.
“Marcus, this is a lie. Your father put her up to this because he’s angry I called him out.”
Diana placed another document down—a credit card statement.
“This is your Nordstrom account—$18,000 in charges over six months. Here’s your AX2—$23,000. The withdrawal dates from the college funds match up exactly with payment dates on these accounts.”
Sophie looked up from her coloring.
“Mommy, what’s happening?”
“Nothing, baby,”
Veronica said,
but her hands were trembling.
“This woman is lying. She’s…”
“There’s more,”
Diana’s voice was gentle now, which somehow made it worse.
“During the investigation, I found evidence of other accounts—a separate checking account in only Veronica’s name opened four months ago. There are regular deposits—cash deposits, always under $10,000.”
She pulled out photos: Veronica entering a bank, Veronica at an ATM, and Veronica with a man I didn’t recognize having coffee at an outdoor cafe, his hand over hers on the table.
“His name is Tyler Brennan,”
Diana said.
“He’s a personal trainer at the gym where Veronica works out. The cash deposits match up with dates when Marcus was working night shifts at the hospital.”
The Foundation Crumbles
Marcus stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. His face had gone white, then red, then white again.
“Veronica…”
“Marcus, let me explain.”
“You stole from our daughters.”
His voice cracked on the word “daughters.”
“You stole money your mother-in-law set aside for them, money they were supposed to have for their futures, and you spent it on clothes and God knows what else!”
“I was going to pay it back!”
Veronica was standing now too, her voice desperate.
“I just needed… we needed the lifestyle we’re supposed to have! Your salary isn’t enough, Marcus! I have a reputation to maintain, followers who expect…”
“Followers?”
Marcus laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“You stole from Emma and Sophie for your Instagram followers?”
Emma started crying. Sophie wrapped her arms around her sister, her small face scrunched with confusion and fear.
I stood up and moved to the girls, kneeling between their chairs.
“Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Is mommy in trouble?”
Sophie whispered.
“Yes,”
I said,
because lying to children never helped anything.
“But you’re not, and your sister’s not, and your dad’s going to make sure you’re safe.”
Diana was still talking, laying out more documents, more evidence: bank statements, photos, text messages.
The affair had been going on for eight months. The theft had started even earlier.
She’d been systematic about it, careful, always staying just under the limits that would trigger automatic reviews.
“I loved your mother,”
I told my granddaughters quietly while the adult world fell apart behind us.
“She loved you both so much, and she wanted you to have opportunities, chances, futures that were yours. That money was a gift from her to you. Nobody had the right to take it.”
“Can we go home?”
Emma asked,
tears streaming down her face.
“Soon, sweetheart.”
Marcus had his phone out now, his hands shaking so hard he could barely type.
“I’m calling my lawyer,”
he said
to no one in particular.
“I need my lawyer. Dad, can you… can you take the girls?”
“Of course.”
Veronica was crying now, mascara running down her cheeks, the perfect Instagram facade crumbling.
“Marcus, please, we can fix this. I made mistakes, but we can get out…”
“Get out?”
Marcus said
quietly.
“What? Get out of this restaurant? Get out of my sight?”
“I will deal with the legal aspects of this through attorneys, but right now I need you to leave before I say something I’ll regret in front of our daughters.”
“You can’t just throw me out! I have rights! I’m their mother!”
“You’re a thief.”
The words came out flat and final.
“You stole from children, from our children. Whatever rights you think you have, you’d better believe I’m going to fight like hell to make sure you don’t get to hurt them anymore.”
Diana closed her portfolio.
“Mr. Foster, I’ve compiled a complete report. Copies have been provided to your attorney and to the local prosecutor’s office.”
“Mrs. Foster, you should be aware that what you’ve done constitutes multiple counts of financial fraud and theft. The fact that the victims are minors makes it significantly more serious.”
Veronica looked at me then, and for just a moment I saw past the anger and the fear to something else—regret maybe, or just desperation.
“This is your fault,”
she said,
her voice…
“You did this. You could have just helped us. You could have just given us the money freely, but instead you set a trap. You’re cruel, Richard. You’re a cruel old man.”
“I protected my granddaughters,”
I said
simply.
“That’s what grandparents do.”
She grabbed her purse and left. The sound of her heels on the restaurant floor got quieter, then disappeared entirely.
The waiter appeared in the doorway, looking uncertain.
“Is everything all right? I heard raised voices.”
“We’re fine,”
I told him.
“Can you box up the girls’ dinners? We’re going to head out.”
“Of course.”
“And the check,”
Marcus said,
“I’ll take care of it.”
But I shook my head.
“Let me. This dinner was supposed to be a celebration.”
I looked at Emma, whose tears had slowed.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. I’m sorry it turned out like this.”
“It’s okay, Grandpa.”
She hugged the compass I’d given her.
“At least you’re here.”
