Chapter 3 - The Folder
I opened the door but didn't invite them in.
My father looked ten years older than he had at the gala. Deborah looked furious enough to crack glass.
"You need to reverse this tonight," my father said.
"No."
"Nora, be reasonable."
Deborah stepped forward. "Your father built that hotel."
"My mother built it with him."
"She's dead."
The hallway went dead silent. My father turned toward her. "Stop."
But Deborah was too angry to notice the line she'd just crossed.
"You think some old trust gives you the right to take everything?"
I held her gaze steady. "Not everything. Just what was never yours to begin with."
I handed my father a folder — the underpriced land deal, the trust clause, the expense ledger, all of it.
He started turning pages. "What is this?"
Deborah's face shifted. "Martin, those are business expenses."
"One point eight million?"
"I can explain."
"You can explain it to the forensic auditors," I said.
May you like
My father looked at me, his shoulders sinking. "Nora, I didn't know."
"You didn't want to know."
