Chapter 8 - MEGAN'S ALIBI
The education fund was legitimate.
That complicated things.
Diane had created it after Megan and Travis's father, Frank, died.
Private money.
Not a charity.
Not a tax-exempt scholarship scheme.
It paid school enrichment grants in three communities.
Northwood happened to be one.
Emma benefited only indirectly.
No stolen charitable funds.
No fake tuition reimbursement.
Megan almost felt relieved.
Then the fund administrator found something else.
One direct payment.
$12,000.
To Emma's school.
Memo:
Anonymous tuition stabilization grant.
Diane authorized it.
Emma was one of four recipients.
Not illegal.
But the application process had been waived.
Why?
Diane admitted it.
Rachel had temporary income loss after surgery.
Diane wanted to help.
Rachel refused personal money.
So Diane paid the school and asked administrators to spread the gift across several students so Emma was not singled out.
Generous.
Also secretive.
Diane could never do one without wrapping the other around it.
Then Megan's own old messages came back.
Vanessa's attorney asked whether Megan would provide the nine-year-old texts voluntarily.
Megan stared at the request.
If she did:
Her false alibi became part of any divorce record.
Potentially part of the family trust review if finances became relevant.
Aaron might hear about it.
Relatives definitely would.
Megan had spent years fighting the story that she was unstable, dramatic, unreliable.
Now she would be handing over proof that she once lied for her brother.
Her attorney said:
“You are not legally obligated to volunteer private messages in somebody else's marriage dispute before formal discovery.”
“I know.”
“You can wait.”
Megan almost did.
Then Logan walked into the kitchen.
Not intentionally part of the decision.
Just looking for cereal.
He saw her staring at the phone.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He gave her a look.
She laughed.
“Fine. Adult problem.”
“Travis?”
“Yes.”
Logan opened the cabinet.
“Are you going to tell the truth?”
Fifteen-year-olds could be unbearable in their timing.
Megan looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
He poured cereal.
That was it.
Megan sent the messages.
Not because Logan told her to.
Because keeping them back would repeat the mechanism that had built this mess.
Vanessa called afterward.
“I got them.”
“I know.”
“Thank you.”
Megan hesitated.
“There's more.”
She remembered one detail from the night of the alibi.
Travis had returned to her apartment around one in the morning.
He smelled like expensive perfume.
Megan noticed.
He said a client had hugged him after a dinner.
She rolled her eyes.
Did not ask.
Why?
Because Aaron had accused Megan for years of seeing affairs everywhere.
She had begun distrusting her own instincts.
Vanessa was quiet.
“You thought something was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“And did nothing.”
“Yes.”
The admission hurt more than Megan expected.
Then Vanessa said:
“I did the same thing for nine years.”
They sat in silence on opposite ends of a phone call.
Not friends.
Not repaired.
Just two women recognizing how much damage can fit inside the sentence:
I didn't want to know.
Then Vanessa asked:
“Has Travis called you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He wants me to talk to you.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Of course.”
“He said he's afraid you'll cut him off from the baby.”
Her silence changed.
“That is not what I'm doing.”
“I told him to speak through lawyers until you're ready.”
“Thank you.”
Then Megan heard something.
A child crying in the background.
Not Logan.
Vanessa whispered:
“I'm at Rachel's.”
Megan stood.
“What?”
“I asked first.”
“Is Emma there?”
“Yes.”
Megan's heart jumped.
“Vanessa.”
“I am not confronting her.”
Her voice broke.
“I came because there is one thing I need to see with my own eyes before I decide what happens next.”
Megan closed her eyes.
“What?”
May you like
Vanessa looked across Rachel's living room.
“Whether my husband built a life here.”
