Chapter 17 - What Vanessa Remembered
Vanessa spoke for two hours.
Not in order.
Not cleanly.
She remembered Loretta entering her bedroom without knocking.
Borrowing clothes.
Correcting her posture.
Commenting on her weight.
Flirting with boys’ fathers at school functions, then later asking whether teenage boys had noticed her.
“She needed proof,” Vanessa said.
“Proof of what?” Amara asked.
“That she still mattered.”
The answer sounded painfully familiar.
Vanessa stared at her old letter.
“When I started getting attention, she acted like I had stolen something.”
Amara said nothing.
“She would compliment me and insult me in the same sentence.”
Vanessa laughed weakly.
“‘You’re pretty, baby. Imagine what you’ll look like when you learn how to do your makeup.’”
Amara recognized the pattern.
She had heard variations her entire life.
“You do that.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“I know.”
The admission was quiet.
Almost invisible.
Amara felt tears rise.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That can’t be the whole answer.”
“No.”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“When you were little, loving you was easy.”
Amara flinched.
Vanessa immediately corrected herself.
“No. That came out wrong.”
“Did it?”
“I mean you needed me differently.”
She struggled.
“When you were five, if people said you were beautiful, they usually said you looked like me.”
Amara stared.
“When you were ten, I chose your clothes. Your hair. Everything.”
Vanessa breathed slowly.
“And then you became yourself.”
The sentence settled between them.
“You stopped being an extension of me.”
Amara whispered, “I was never an extension of you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I’m starting to.”
It was not an apology.
But it was closer to truth than anything Amara had heard.
Then she asked the harder question.
“Why did you take the money?”
Vanessa stared at the table.
“Because VGlow was failing.”
“You could have closed it.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Because I had spent two years telling everybody it was successful.”
Amara understood.
“You were trapped by the image.”
“Yes.”
“And you chose my money.”
“Yes.”
No borrowed.
No invested.
No benefited.
Just yes.
“How much was for me?”
Vanessa stood and retrieved a folder from the office.
Bank records.
Full transaction history.
“I printed everything.”
Amara stared.
“You had this?”
“I downloaded it today.”
They went through each line.
Laptop: $1,140.
Academic program: $1,900.
College entrance tutoring: $720.
Legitimate expenses.
Then:
$4,800 transfer.
$2,500 transfer.
$3,000 transfer.
$2,300 transfer.
All connected to Vanessa or VGlow.
Total improper withdrawals: $12,600.
Remaining balance after legitimate spending and small earnings: $846.
“I lied about the amount,” Vanessa said.
Amara looked up.
“You said twelve.”
“It was twelve-six.”
Vanessa’s shame was visible.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because if I keep shaving pieces off the truth, I’m doing the same thing.”
Amara wanted to forgive her.
That frightened her.
Forgiveness could become another trap if given too early.
“What happens now?”
“I sign the agreement.”
Amara stared.
Vanessa continued.
“I’m selling the car.”
“What?”
“The SUV.”
“You love that car.”
“I cannot afford it.”
A strange laugh escaped Amara.
Vanessa smiled sadly.
“I know. Revolutionary.”
“And the house?”
“I’m talking to the lender.”
“VGlow?”
Vanessa looked toward her office.
“I may close it.”
Amara nodded.
Vanessa reached across the table.
Then stopped before touching her hand.
“May I?”
Amara looked at the offered hand.
Not demanded.
Asked.
She placed her hand in Vanessa’s.
Only for a moment.
May you like
![92 The Girl They Called Broke Was a Billionaire’s Daughter—But Her Father’s Arrival Exposed a Secret Powerful People Had Buried for Years]](https://cdn.treeiq.biz/site_590/2026/11/clone-0-0915d882-53d7-4d17-b43a-a010ca1a1068.webp)
It was the first boundary Vanessa honored.
Neither woman mistook it for healing.
