Then I emailed Brenda.
I requested written confirmation of every reservation change and every attempt to change my penthouse assignment.
She replied the next morning.
The record showed that someone had attempted to move my suite into Dad's name before the cruise.
The caller had identified herself as Susan Miller.
My mother.
I read the email three times.
Then I saved it.
That afternoon, Uncle Paul asked to speak with me.
We met at a quiet table near the library lounge.
Paul had worked part-time as Dad's bookkeeper before retiring. He knew more about the construction business than almost anyone.
He looked ten years older than he had at the buffet.
"Millie," he began, "I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
"For believing your father."
I said nothing.
He folded his hands.
"Richard told me you had agreed to help Vanessa and Brandon purchase the company."
I stared at him.
"Purchase it?"
He nodded.
Dad was planning to sell Miller Custom Builds.
Not to an outside buyer.
To Vanessa and Brandon.
They had formed a company to acquire it.
The bank financing was supposed to cover the purchase and initial operating expenses.
But Vanessa and Brandon didn't have sufficient savings or reliable earnings to qualify comfortably on their own.
Dad's company had struggled.
Its financial records were uneven.
And the bank wanted additional assurance that the debt would be repaid.
That's where I came in.
My corporate salary.
My excellent credit.
My savings history.
All the things my family had spent years praising.
**They were attempting to use my financial stability to fund the transfer of Dad's business to Vanessa and Brandon.**
