“Your name was on the account,” Gavin said, scanning the first page.

“You can’t accuse me of stealing my own money.”

“I’m not arguing about it in the hallway,” I said.

“We have an attorney helping us determine the account’s legal status and what remedies are available.

I want the facts preserved.”

The difference mattered.

I was furious, but fury would not restore Selena’s future.

I had spent the two weeks of their holiday assembling a record that could survive outside this kitchen.