The next morning, before I went to see Luca, I called my cousin Andrea.
Andrea is my mother’s sister’s daughter. She’s thirty-six. A nurse at VCU Medical Center. She and Vanessa had a big falling-out two years ago about who got Grandma’s china. They haven’t spoken since.
If anybody would tell me the truth, it was Andrea.
“Andrea,” I said. “What’s going on with Vanessa? Why does it feel like the whole family is avoiding me?”
She hesitated. A long time.
“Michael,” she finally said. “Vanessa’s been telling everybody your company’s practically bankrupt.”
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“She says you’ve been borrowing money from your dad to make payroll. She says you’re about to lose everything. She says she’s protecting your dignity by not talking about it in front of you.”
My firm closed a $2.8 million deal in January. A strip mall in Midlothian. We made a $640,000 profit.
“She told Uncle Ray you had to sell your truck,” Andrea said. “She told Aunt Linda you’re behind on your mortgage.”
I own my house in the Fan District outright. I paid it off in 2022.
Suddenly, I remembered every uncomfortable conversation from the last two years. Every silence when I mentioned work at Thanksgiving. Every time Aunt Linda patted my hand and said, “It’ll get better, honey.” Every look of pity I couldn’t figure out.
Vanessa had been writing a story about my failure.
And everybody I loved had believed it.
“Why?” I asked Andrea. “Why would she do that?”
Andrea was quiet. Then she said a name.
“Derek.”
Derek Holloway is Vanessa’s husband. He’s forty-one. He owns a small property management company called Holloway Residential. About two hundred rental units across Richmond and Henrico County. He collects rent for landlords. Handles repairs. Holds tenants’ security deposits.
“Derek’s company needs money,” Andrea said. “Bad. Vanessa’s been pushing your dad to invest. Four hundred thousand dollars.”
My throat went tight.
“Four hundred thousand? That’s…”
“That’s almost his entire retirement,” Andrea said. “His IRA. Everything he saved for thirty-four years at VDOT.”
I sat down hard on the edge of my bed.
And all at once, I understood.
If my father believed I was a successful commercial real estate investor, what would he do before handing four hundred thousand dollars to his son-in-law’s property management company?
He’d ask me to look at it.
I’m the one person in the family who would know exactly what questions to ask.
So Vanessa made sure he thought I was broke. Failing. The last person he’d ever ask for financial advice.
And then she made sure I wasn’t even at his birthday dinner.
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
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