My mother started crying, her hand covering her mouth. Belle was backing out of the office, but a security guard blocked the door.
“This is ridiculous!” my father yelled. He pulled the gold-plated fountain pen from his pocket, waving it aggressively. “I am Nathaniel Hail! I built this town!”
“And you forged a federal document to steal from your daughter,” Marisol said.
Two police officers entered the office.
“Is this the man?” the officer asked.
“Yes,” Marisol said, pointing to my father. “And that young woman is the co-owner of the account where the stolen funds were deposited.” She pointed at Belle.
“Claire, please!” Belle sobbed, grabbing my blazer. “I didn’t know! Dad told me it was a gift!”
I looked at my sister. I looked at my father, whose knuckles were white as he gripped his gold pen.
“I spent 3 years saving that money,” I said. “You took my rent. You wanted to ruin me.”
“I wanted to teach you a lesson!” my father screamed as the officer grabbed his arm. “You owe me! I paid for your life!”
“You paid for your own control,” I said.
The officers cuffed my father. They led him and Belle through the crowded bank lobby.
The normal people doing normal things stopped and stared.
The developer, the contractor, the mother with the stroller. They all watched Nathaniel Hail being marched out in disgrace.
Because my account was flagged for fraud, the bank reversed the transfers immediately. The $14,500 was returned to my savings.
My father was forced to resign from his real estate board to avoid a public trial. He settled out of court, paying a massive fine to the bank.
Belle’s credit was ruined, and she was forced to work at a regular store to pay her debts.
Yesterday, Mrs. Bell came to my apartment.
We sat in the living room. The sun was warm on the hardwood floor.
I handed her the rent check.
“Thank you, Claire,” she said, smiling. “I’m sorry about the morning.”
“It’s fine, Mrs. Bell,” I said.
The gold-plated fountain pen is still in my desk drawer.
But the ink is dry. I will never use it again.
