Seventy-Three Thousand Dollars in Phony Medical Bills, Paid for a Pregnant Replacement

Trent was sitting at the marble island with a bowl of cereal, his phone leaning against the fruit bowl.

He put the spoon down.

“What’s all this?” he said.

“An asset inventory,” David said.

He laid his briefcase open on the counter.

“Company property.

Twenty minutes.”

Trent got down off the stool, and it scraped across the tile.