Chapter 7 - The Digital Reckoning
When I opened my eyes, the living room was illuminated by a strange, flickering blue glow. The overhead lights had cut out completely, replaced by the emergency projection screens that my system had automatically deployed across every smart TV, tablet, and mobile device connected to the household network.
Silence hung heavy in the room, thicker and more terrifying than any scream.
My father was standing frozen over my fallen body, his hand still outstretched where he had dropped the crutch, his mouth half-open in a dumbfounded expression. My mother looked like she had seen a ghost, staring blankly at the massive living room television screen.
On that screen, in bold, crisp financial typography, was the header: FORENSIC AUDIT REPORT: IDENTIFIED FRAUDULENT TRANSFERS & ASSET MISAPPROPRIATION.
Beneath it, a complete, itemized breakdown scrolled slowly for all fifty guests to see:
Account Holder: Christina Morgan
Target Account: Roger Morgan Business Holdings
Amount Stolen: $45,000.00 (Categorized as "Medical Reconstruction Fund")
Unauthorized Credit Card Charges: $12,450.65 (Logged to Teresa Morgan, spent at luxury retailers, salons, and jewelers).
Ip Addresses, Device Signatures, and Timestamp Logs.
And right below the financial breakdown, a video window automatically began to play at maximum volume. It was a recording taken from my father's home office security camera just three weeks prior.
My father’s voice boomed clearly through the high-end surround sound speakers: "We don't need to give her the money back, Megan. Once she's stuck here, what's she going to do? Sue us? By the time she can walk, we'll have spent it all, and she'll be too dependent on us to care. She's our cash cow, and she doesn't even know it."
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The video replayed the audio twice.
In the living room, fifty guests stared in absolute horror. Aunt Martha dropped her glass of wine, the red liquid staining the white rug like blood. Several neighbors turned their backs on my parents, whispering furiously among themselves. One man pulled out his phone, recording the screen with wide eyes.
