She stopped near a window overlooking the street.
His words chilled her further — not “I’m sorry,” not “I hurt you.” Just a plea to not face what he’d done.
“I’m not doing anything to you,” she said. “You did this to yourself.”
“You don’t understand how this started,” he argued.
“Then tell me one thing clearly,” she said. “Did you take money from our daughter’s college fund?”
He looked at the floor. That was his answer.
“It was temporary,” he said.
Pain flared in her chest.
“Three hundred thousand dollars from your daughter — temporary?”
“I planned to put it back once a deal closed.”
“And if it hadn’t?”
He had nothing.
“Maxine trusts you completely,” Gretchen said, her voice breaking. “She tells her friends you always keep your word. You know what’s worse? I believed the same lie for fourteen years.”
He rubbed his face.
“Cheyenne made me feel important again,” he admitted quietly.
That honesty hurt more than any lie he’d told.
He hadn’t ruined his family for love. He’d risked his daughter’s future because a younger woman admired his suits, his trips, his title.
“I stood beside you when we couldn’t afford to fix the fridge,” Gretchen said. “I pulled double shifts when you lost your job. I sold my mother’s jewelry for the down payment. I stopped making you feel important because I knew your real fears. You never wanted love, Joshua. You wanted an audience.”
