“My fiancé,” my mother says, as if I’m the one being difficult. “You’ll meet him at dinner. He’s absolutely wonderful. Such a brilliant investor.”
“Crypto millionaire,” Chloe corrects with obvious pride.
Elliot Brady arrives at precisely six-thirty carrying an expensive bottle of wine and wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s taller than I expected, with the clean-cut kind of handsomeness that belongs in commercials for luxury watches and men’s cologne.
“The mysterious sister finally appears,” he says, gripping my hand a little too firmly. “Chloe said you were some kind of computer genius hiding away in the big city.”
“Product analyst,” I correct.
“Sounds intense.” He winks. “I’ve got some friends developing an AI trading platform. Revolutionary stuff. We should talk shop sometime.”
During dinner, Elliot dominates the table with stories about crypto investments, exclusive opportunities, and private deals ordinary people could never access. My father hangs on every word like he’s listening to a man explaining the future.
“So which exchanges do you primarily trade on?” I ask during a rare pause.
Elliot’s smile freezes for half a heartbeat.
“Oh, a mix. Mostly private platforms. Exclusive access through my network.”
“Fascinating. And your company is based where?”
“We’re decentralized,” he replies smoothly. “That’s the beauty of blockchain, right? I’ve got partners in Singapore, Zurich, Dubai.”
My father shoots me a warning look.
“Maidin, not everyone wants to discuss business at dinner.”
Later, while searching my father’s study for more wedding programs, I stumble across refinancing paperwork for the house.
Dated three weeks ago.
The property I grew up in, which had been nearly paid off, now carries a sizable new mortgage.
Voices drift from the adjacent dining room and freeze me in place.
“Lawrence, are you sure about this second mortgage?” my mother asks, her voice low and brittle. “That’s everything. Our savings. My inheritance too.”
“You wouldn’t understand investments like these,” my father snaps. “Elliot has guaranteed twenty percent returns, minimum. This is what building real wealth looks like.”
I lean against the wall, my analyst brain already running numbers. Second mortgage. Family savings. Inheritance. All flowing toward Elliot’s vague investment opportunity.
He’s a fraud.
“Aunt Helen’s been saying the same thing,” my mother murmurs. “She thinks we’re making a mistake.”
I step into the backyard later and find Aunt Helen near the flower tables, supposedly admiring centerpieces she helped arrange. Her gray eyes, so similar to mine, sharpen the second she sees my face.
“You see it too?” I ask quietly.
She nods.
“Your father won’t listen to me. Started talking about how I’ve always been jealous of his success.”
“Mr. Wilson down the street lost forty thousand in an exclusive investment opportunity last year,” she continues. “Sounded awfully familiar when I heard Elliot’s proposals.”
“Maidin.”
I turn at the sound of my name.
Mr. Thomas, my old science teacher, is waving from the fence line. He makes his way over in a Cubs cap and a windbreaker that still smells faintly of fresh-cut grass.
“I’ve been following your career,” he says warmly. “That Chicago data science program you attended is one of the best in the country.”
I freeze.
“How did you—”
“Unlike your parents, some of us actually pay attention, Anne.”
Aunt Helen pats my hand.
For the first time since arriving, I feel seen.
That evening, I stand in the living room and say the thing I came home to say.
“Dad. Mom. I think we need to talk about Elliot.”
My father doesn’t look up from his newspaper.
“What about him?”
“I’ve noticed inconsistencies in his business claims. The way he describes his investments doesn’t align with how crypto markets actually function.”
My mother sighs dramatically.
“Honestly, Maidin, you’ve always been jealous of your sister’s happiness.”
“This isn’t about jealousy. His investment claims don’t make mathematical sense.”
My father finally lowers the paper and fixes me with a cold, familiar stare.
“You don’t understand business at this level, Maidin. Not everything fits into your little spreadsheets.”
The front door opens. Chloe enters with Elliot and immediately senses the tension.
“What’s going on?”
