The Wrong Photo Arrived From Manhattan on Christmas Eve While My Twins Were Crying

She set a blue file folder on the mahogany table between us.

“Daniel called twenty minutes ago,” she said.

“The firm’s auditor confirmed what you found in Cole’s study.”

I picked up the top page from the folder.

It was a copy of the power of attorney form Sierra Vaughn had altered on January twelfth, assigning client fund authority directly to her personal LLC.

“She moved four accounts while Cole was asleep,” I said.

“She moved four accounts that Cole co-signed while he thought he was protecting his own shell company,” Margaret said.