Aunt Monica’s face went white.
Mr. Grant placed another document on top.
“To pay your credit card.”
Another.
“To pay the deposit on your Paris hotel.”
Another.
“To purchase the premium seats.”
Dad suddenly reached for the folder.
Mr. Grant moved it away.
“Don’t touch that.”
“This is private.”
“It belongs to Hazel.”
Dad’s voice rose.
“You don’t get to walk into an airport and accuse me in front of my children.”
I stepped forward.
“You accused Grandma first.”
He turned toward me.
“What?”
“You told her to go home.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“I was standing there.”
“You were confused.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I was the only person in that family who wasn’t pretending.”
My mother whispered my name.
I ignored her.
Dad stared at me for a long moment.
Then his voice became quiet.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
I almost smiled.
“Actually, Dad, I think I finally do.”
Mr. Grant turned another page.
“There is something else.”
Dad’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Your mother didn’t just lose thirty thousand dollars.”
He removed a copy of the family trust.
“She nearly lost control of the building where your company operates.”
