“Family doesn’t steal your identity,” I replied, stepping closer to her and looking at her cheek where a faint red mark still showed on mine. “Family doesn’t throw boiling coffee in your face when you refuse to let them steal more.”
Before Beatrice could answer, the heavy glass doors of the country club opened once again. Two uniformed officers from the Financial Crimes Unit stepped into the lobby, accompanied by Detective Marcus Vance holding an official clipboard and a set of warrants.
“Lauren Vance?” Detective Vance asked, maintaining a professional distance.
“Yes, Detective,” I replied, handing him the folder. “The primary suspects are all present.”
My mother let out a sharp, hysterical shriek as the officers stepped forward, pulling out hand restraints. “David! Do something! She’s arresting her own mother!”
My father stood completely frozen, overwhelmed by the rapid collapse of his comfortable reality, while Beatrice burst into frantic, sobbing pleas as an officer requested her to step forward.
“Lauren, please!” Beatrice cried, her voice echoing off the high ceilings of the luxury venue she had tried so hard to steal. “We can fix this! We can pay it back!”
“You had years to fix it,” I said quietly, watching as the officers read them their rights in the middle of the opulent room. “Now, you’re going to pay for it.”
I turned my back on the commotion, walking out of the country club and stepping into the crisp morning air. For the first time in my life, the weight on my shoulders was completely gone. I got into my car, started the engine, and drove away, leaving the past behind me for good.
