Sarah’s hands trembled as she unfolded the crumpled note she’d found tucked under her father’s hospital pillow.
“Your brother has been stealing from your father’s business accounts for three years. Check the books. —A friend”
“What’s that?” Her brother Michael walked into the ICU room, coffee in hand.
Sarah quickly stuffed the note into her purse. “Nothing. Just… how’s Dad doing?”
“Same. The doctors say maybe a few more days.” Michael sat down heavily. “At least the business is stable. I’ve been managing everything while he’s been sick.”
Sarah studied her brother’s face. The expensive watch. The new car she’d noticed in the parking lot.
“Michael, can I see the business records? I want to understand Dad’s finances before…”
“Why would you need those? I handle all that stuff.”
“Because I’m his daughter too.”
Michael’s jaw tightened. “Sarah, you’ve never shown interest in the construction company. Why start now?”
“Show me the books, Michael.”
“No.”
Sarah pulled out her phone. “Then I’ll call Dad’s accountant myself.”
“Don’t.” Michael grabbed her wrist. “You don’t understand how complicated this is.”
“Let go of me.”
“Sarah, listen—”
“I said let go!”
Michael released her hand, his face pale. “Fine. But you won’t like what you find.”
Two hours later, Sarah sat in the accountant’s office staring at printouts that made her sick.
“Three hundred thousand dollars,” the accountant said quietly. “Transferred out over the past three years. All signed off by Michael as power of attorney.”
“Where did it go?”
“Gambling debts, from what I can tell. Online poker sites, mostly.”
Sarah’s phone buzzed. A text from Michael: “We need to talk. Meet me at Dad’s house.”
She drove there with the evidence folder on her passenger seat. Michael was waiting in the driveway.
“You saw the records,” he said as she got out of the car.
“Three hundred thousand dollars, Michael. Dad’s life savings.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“With what money? You lost everything!”
Michael ran his hands through his hair. “I had a system. I was winning for months, then everything went wrong.”
“Dad trusted you. He gave you power of attorney because he believed in you.”
“I know.”
“He’s dying, Michael. And you stole his retirement, his security, everything he worked for.”
“I can fix this.”
“How? The company’s barely breaking even. You’ve been hiding losses for months.”
Michael’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know.”
Sarah pulled out her phone. “I’m calling the police.”
“Sarah, please. He’s our father. This will kill him.”
“You already did that when you stole from him.”
“I can get a loan. Sell my house.”
“Your house is mortgaged to the limit. I checked.”
Michael stared at her. “You investigated me?”
“Someone had to. Dad’s been trusting the wrong son.”
“Sarah, I’m begging you—”
“No.” She dialed 911. “This is Sarah Mitchell. I need to report embezzlement.”
Michael sank onto the porch steps as Sarah gave the dispatcher their address.
“You know what the worst part is?” Sarah said after hanging up. “Dad always bragged about you. His successful son running the family business.”
“I was successful. For years.”
“You were a thief. There’s a difference.”
Twenty minutes later, police cars pulled into the driveway. Michael didn’t resist when they put the handcuffs on.
“Sarah,” he said as they led him to the patrol car. “Tell Dad I’m sorry.”
“Tell him yourself. In court.”
Sarah watched the police cars drive away, then went inside her father’s house. She found his will in the desk drawer. Everything was left to Michael.
She called the family lawyer.
“Given the circumstances,” the lawyer said, “your father will want to change his will immediately. I’ll bring the paperwork to the hospital tomorrow.”
Sarah returned to the ICU that evening. Her father was awake.
“Where’s Michael?” he asked weakly.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
She showed him the financial records, the evidence of the theft, everything.
Her father closed his eyes. “I trusted him with everything.”
“I know.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars.”
“The police arrested him this afternoon.”
Her father was quiet for a long time. “That anonymous note. Someone was trying to help us.”
“Probably someone at the company who knew what Michael was doing.”
“Sarah, I need you to take over the business.”
“Dad, I don’t know anything about construction.”
“You’ll learn. You’re honest. That’s more than I can say for your brother.”
The next morning, Sarah’s father changed his will. The business, the house, everything went to Sarah.
Michael was sentenced to five years in prison for embezzlement. The judge ordered full restitution, but the money was long gone.
Sarah sold the construction company and used the proceeds to pay for her father’s medical care. He lived another six months, long enough to see Michael’s trial and to know his daughter would be okay.
At the funeral, Sarah found another note tucked into her purse.
“You did the right thing. Your father was proud. —A friend”
She never found out who wrote the anonymous notes. But she kept them both, reminders that sometimes strangers care more about justice than family does.
