They were Grover’s.

I remember the exact moment I understood it, alone in my office with two monitors and a cold cup of coffee.

My first feeling wasn’t anger; it was a strange, sinking recognition, because some part of me had been waiting years for a thing like this without knowing it.

Grover had been circling my accounts my whole marriage, always with a hand out, always with a story.

Now here it was in the ledger: not a loan he’d forgotten to repay, but theft — deliberate, engineered, ongoing.

He had lifted an archived copy of my digital authorization signature from a shared folder Lindsay had carelessly sent him two years before, and used it to add himself as an authorized spender on my firm’s secondary credit line, quietly feeding his gambling for months.