an account Richard could not access.
I did not take anything from her.
I simply stopped giving.
At 7:03, Richard entered the kitchen holding his phone.
“What the hell did you do?”
I turned the laptop toward him and spread the printed statements across the table.
“I followed your boundary. Sloane isn’t my daughter. You’re her father.”
His anger lasted five seconds.
Then he saw the transfers.
The color drained from his face.
I tapped the page. “Why did almost thirty thousand dollars marked for her education go into your business?”
He reached for the statements.
I pulled them back.Richard sat across from me and arranged his expression into the calm, disappointed look he used with nervous clients.
“That isn’t what you think.”
“It’s your company’s operating account.”
“I moved the tuition money into an education reserve so I could manage the deadlines.”
“Show me the reserve.”
“I
