The folder on his nightstand. The stack of copied records he said were “just paperwork.” The phone calls he brushed off with a tired smile. I’d accepted every explanation because I trusted him completely.
The room tilted sideways. I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother right there in the café.
“Business is complicated.”
She answered on the second ring, her voice already brittle.
“So. You went through with it.”
“Mom. Did Graham’s father cosign Dad’s business loan?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t. I’m holding the signed loan documents in my hand.”
There was a long silence.
“That was a long time ago, honey,” she said finally. “Business is complicated.”
“His mother is sick. She’s been paying interest on a debt that was yours.”
“Take me to their house.”
“His family should be grateful for anything they ever got from us,” she snapped. “We gave you a life. That woman can figure out her own affairs.”
