Chapter 2: Fourteen Thousand Dollars Gone

When the screen lit up, the first thing I saw was the balance.

$4,627.

I stared at the number, logged out, then used my fingerprint to log back in.

The balance hadn’t changed.

That account was supposed to have just over $18,600 in it, most of it money I’d saved, bit by bit, from my paychecks. The venue, the photographer, the flowers—every line item was in a spreadsheet I had made.

Now, fourteen thousand dollars was gone.

I opened the transaction history.

Three days earlier, there had been an external transfer to an unfamiliar account. The memo line was blank. The status read: Completed.

Three days earlier, I was still confirming the engagement brunch menu with the hotel. Noah had been sitting right beside me, holding my hand and telling me to leave the wedding details to him, that I didn’t have to carry everything myself.

I took a screenshot of the transaction and called him.

He didn’t pick up until the fifth ring.

“Rowan? What’s up?”

His voice was light. I could hear a TV in the background.

“Where did the money in our wedding account go?”

A two-second pause.

Not surprise. More like he was deciding on an explanation.

“So you saw,” Noah sighed. “I was going to tell you.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“You transferred it?”

“Yes.”

He admitted it so easily, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“To whose account?”

“The landlord’s. Chloe and Jason found an apartment they liked, so I paid the deposit and a year’s rent for them.”

I thought I’d misheard him.

“Fourteen thousand dollars?”

“You know how expensive rent is in Boston.”

“That was our wedding fund, Noah.”

“Of course I know that.” Impatience crept into his voice. “But Chloe has an eviction on her record, and her credit isn’t good enough. She never would’ve been approved otherwise. The landlord agreeing to accept a year’s rent up front was a favor.”

“So you just took the money from our joint account?”

“She’s pregnant. She can’t keep living crammed into Diane and Rick’s place. What happens after the baby is born? Jason’s apartment doesn’t even have room for a crib.”

He said it like it was obvious.

Every reason he gave was about how badly Chloe needed the money.

Not one of them involved asking if I agreed.

I stared at the number on the screen, and my anger didn’t rise.

It cooled.

“When did you decide this?”

“A few days ago.”

“Who knew?”

“Diane and Rick. We all talked about it and agreed it was the best solution.”

We all.

Apparently, I was never part of his “everyone”—even when it was my money being spent.

“You all discussed how to spend my money, and no one thought to tell me.”

“Rowan, don’t put it like that. It’s not your money. It’s our money.”

“If it’s ours, why did you get to decide alone?”

Noah fell silent for a moment.

Then I asked, word by word, “My money. My future. What gave you the right to decide for me?”

The line went completely quiet.

A few seconds later, his voice dropped.

“What is going on with you lately?”

I said nothing.

“First you make everyone uncomfortable over a veil, and now you’re quibbling over this money. Rowan, you’ve never been like this. You’ve always been understanding. You’ve always known what’s most important to this family.”

“So what’s most important to this family is using my wedding to clean up Chloe’s messes?”

“She’s your sister!”

“Stepsister.”

“What’s the difference?” he snapped. “We’re about to get married. We should be supporting our family, unconditionally. We both have stable jobs. We can earn that money back. But Chloe needs a place to live now, and the baby isn’t going to wait for us to finish planning our wedding.”

“And what about our wedding?”

“It’s just a delay.”

Just.

The veil was just a piece of old fabric.

The engagement brunch was just a party.

And now fourteen thousand dollars was just money we could earn back.

As long as what was being taken belonged to me, it was never worth making a fuss over.

Noah seemed to take my silence for surrender, because his tone softened again.

“Come on, don’t get worked up. I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll talk it through. You’re just upset because of what happened today. Get some sleep and you’ll feel better.”

He even chuckled.

“Our relationship is solid. We’re not going to fall apart over money. And you’re not really going to leave Chloe hanging, are you?”

I didn’t answer.

He took that as a yes.

“That’s more like it. Get some rest. I love you.”

The call ended.

I hadn’t turned on the lights. The cold glow of the banking app lit my face.

I sat there for a long time.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t call him back to argue.

This wasn’t the first time they had made decisions for me.

It was just the first time they had taken the money I’d set aside for my future—and the man who was supposed to share that future with me had handed it to someone else.

The screen dimmed.

I woke it back up, closed the banking app, and didn’t look up the venue’s refund policy.

I didn’t text Noah.

Instead, I logged into the property management company’s website and pulled up the lease for our house—the one where I was listed as the primary tenant.