“They’re taking the flatbeds and the commercial inventory,” he whispered, looking up at me.

“If they seize my personal hand tools, I can’t take independent carpentry jobs.”

“The red steel toolboxes in the back of my pickup belong to me.”

“I bought those hammers and chisels before I ever met Clara, before we built the business.”

“You used Leo’s trust fund to cover your shortages, Julian,” I said.

“I know what I did,” he said.

His eyes looked flat and exhausted, fixed on his untied dress shoe.