So I stayed quiet.
Then Tyler slipped something into my coat pocket.
Something flat.
Something cold.
And before I could ask what it was, he stepped away.
Harrison looked up from his phone, and Tyler followed him toward the gate.
I stood there watching my son disappear into the crowd, fighting every instinct telling me to run after him.
Only when I was alone did I reach into my pocket.
My fingers touched a black bank card.
Then my phone lit up.
The message was from Tyler.
“There’s $3.8 million in the account. The PIN is your birthday. Don’t trust anyone Dad knows. I’ll explain when I can.”
I read the message once.
Then again.
The same boy who had stood beside his father in court had secretly left me a warning.
The same boy who seemed to choose a richer life had given me access to millions of dollars and told me not to trust the people around his father.
