Kicked Out For My Sister’s Baby I Returned Rich Chapter 16
By the next morning, Regina’s post was still pinned to the top of her feed.
But the comments had turned.
Someone had set two screenshots side by side.
On the left was her new claim that I had thrown her out.
On the right was the post she’d made three years ago: A new life begins. In that photo, she had already moved into my apartment, Trent was kneeling before her, and Marlene was the first person to like it.
The comment, Finally ditched that boring deadweight, had been blown up and highlighted.
Trent’s reply—Thanks, man—sat right beneath it, timestamp and all.
More people clicked into the bank records.
My payroll deposits filled most of the page, while the money had been drained out, piece by piece, to Regina’s credit card company and a luxury baby store.
The last transfer had gone through before the party.
The shipping label on the baby furniture boxes carried Trent Draper’s name.
The so-called pregnant woman supposedly left homeless by her sister had already used my house fund to buy a crib and stroller before I was ever told to leave.
Regina hurried to delete a few of the questioning comments.
For every one she deleted, ten more sprang up.
So she posted a video instead, weeping as she claimed Trent had let her use the account willingly, and that our parents’ house had only been sold because I had maliciously stopped paying the property taxes.
I didn’t argue with her.
The company page simply uploaded one more document: the certified email receipt.
The send date was the night of the party.
The attachment spelled out the transfer procedures for the property tax, insurance, utilities, and internet—every customer service number and every deadline laid out in full.
Both Gordon and Trent had received it.
It wasn’t that they didn’t know what to do.
Both Gordon and Trent had received it.
It wasn’t that they didn’t know what to do.
It was that they were certain that no matter how badly they treated me, I would still end up paying for them.
At ten that morning, the corporate client’s reputation review team asked for access to the original documents.
I placed the unredacted files in the conference room and permitted on-site review only.
The bank statements. The delivery receipts. The move-out notice. Every page laid out on the table.
They didn’t ask about my family drama.
They only verified the dates and where the documents had come from.
At the end of the meeting, they said the review would take one more day.
The kickoff stayed on hold.
Some people at the office were furious on my behalf. Others fretted that the contract we’d just won would slip through our fingers.
I handled client proposals as usual, checking each handoff form line by line.
That afternoon, the front desk put a call through to me.
Marlene was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
“Thea, take those things down right now! Everyone’s attacking Regina. She’s too scared to even leave the house.”
“She posted first.”
“She only wanted you to help the family! Who told you to put our bank records online?”
“I redacted the private information.”
Marlene’s voice wavered, then climbed sharply again.
“It’s still a family disgrace! How could you let outsiders know your sister had credit card debt?”
“She can publicly claim I abandoned our parents, but I’m not allowed to prove she took my money?”
On the other end, I heard Regina shouting and crying.
She grabbed the phone and screamed, “That money was Trent’s to give me! His name was on the account. What gives you the right to say I took it?”
On the other end, I heard Regina shouting and crying.
She grabbed the phone and screamed, “That money was Trent’s to give me! His name was on the account. What gives you the right to say I took it?”
“Then ask Trent.”
I glanced at the summary page on my desk.
“Ask him if he dares to stand up in front of everyone and say that eighty-two percent of the money in that account was his.”
Regina’s breath caught.
I hung up.
Ten minutes later, she started a livestream.
The title was a single line:
Today I’m telling the whole truth.