I didn’t go home that night.
I drove straight to a hotel near the airport, locked myself inside a room, and placed the black bank card on the desk in front of me.
For nearly an hour, I simply stared at it.
Three point eight million dollars.
I had spent the last thirteen years calculating grocery bills, stretching paychecks, buying secondhand clothes, and pretending I wasn’t tired so my son wouldn’t worry about me.
Now, apparently, I had access to more money than I could have earned in several lifetimes.
But money wasn’t what frightened me.
It was Tyler’s warning.
Don’t trust anyone Dad knows.
My ex-husband, Harrison Cole, had always been wealthy. His family owned a chain of luxury hotels, commercial properties, and investment companies. When we divorced, he kept nearly everything we had accumulated during our marriage.
I hadn’t fought him over the money.
