Chloe stepped close enough for her perfume to choke me. “When Daniel comes home, we’ll tell him you’ve been stealing. We already have statements.”
I smiled then. A small smile. The kind that made Marcus stop laughing.
“What statements?”
Chloe hesitated.
Marcus said, “From the accountant. From the bank manager. From people who matter.”
“You mean Lewis Crane?” I asked. “The accountant whose license was suspended last week?”
His face drained.
“And the bank manager,” I continued, “who emailed me every access log tied to Daniel’s account?”
My mother whispered, “How did you get those?”
The front lock clicked. Boots sounded in the entryway.
Marcus turned pale.
The door opened. Daniel stepped inside in his dress uniform, rain on his shoulders, jaw hard as stone. Behind him stood our attorney, two military police officers, and a detective from financial crimes.
Daniel looked first at my bloody lip. Then at my cheek. Then at them.
His voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade:
