“What does that mean?”
Evelyn closed the laptop halfway.
“It means we need to talk before you make another move.”
“I already told you to remove my guarantee.”
“I know.”
“Do it.”
“I can.”
“Then do it.”
“I will.”
She leaned closer.
“But there’s something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“If we withdraw your guarantee without understanding the entire structure, Garrett may be able to shift the liabilities onto another entity before the banks react.”
I stared at her.
“Can he do that?”
“He can try.”
“And if he does?”
“You could still be exposed.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had been the person who knew how every contract worked.
Every clause.
Every loophole.
Every corporate filing.
Every loan covenant.
But I had never investigated my own husband.
Because I trusted him.
That was my mistake.
Evelyn opened the laptop again.
“I want you to see something else.”
She pulled up a document.
It was an email.
My email.
Or at least it appeared to be.
The sender address was mine.
The signature was mine.
The authorization was mine.
But I had never seen it before.
I stared at the screen.
“What is that?”
“A transfer authorization.”
“I didn’t sign that.”
“I know.”
My blood went cold.
“When was it sent?”
“Six months ago.”
“What was transferred?”
“Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
I looked at her.
“To where?”
“An account belonging to your parents.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My parents?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Evelyn didn’t respond.
“My parents don’t have four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“They do now.”
I stared at her.
She opened another file.
A bank statement.
Then another.
Then another.
My parents’ accounts.
Payments from Andrews Development.
Large payments.
Regular payments.
Some were labeled consulting fees.
Others were labeled property reimbursements.
Others were simply transfers.
I whispered, “How long?”
“Seven years.”
My eyes filled with tears.
Not because I was surprised.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
The luxury house.
The country club memberships.
My father’s new SUV.
My mother’s expensive jewelry.
Their vacations.
The renovations.
The private medical insurance.
The restaurant bills they had once complained they couldn’t afford.
I had always believed Garrett was helping them because he loved my parents.
But he hadn’t been.
He had been paying them.
And apparently, they had been accepting.
“Why?”
Evelyn leaned back.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
I stared at the bank statement.
“How much?”
“Approximately $2.7 million.”
My mouth went dry.
“Two point seven?”
“Million.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The machine beside me began beeping faster.
Evelyn stood.
“Charlotte.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She pressed the nurse call button.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I need to know.”
“Breathe first.”
I forced myself to inhale.
Pain.
Fire.
Then another breath.
Slowly, the machine settled.
