What Daniel didn’t know was that six months earlier, I had stopped leaving myself defenseless.
After Madison secretly charged $28,000 to a company account I managed, I hired a forensic accountant.
What began as a quiet audit uncovered suspicious transfers, forged expense reports, and one crucial fact.
Daniel’s family business was surviving on a credit line personally guaranteed by me.
Not Daniel.
Me.
The clock kept moving.
Four minutes, thirty-two seconds.
My mother whispered, “Claire, please. We can just go.”
“No,” I said. “You taught me not to confuse kindness with permission.”
Madison rolled her eyes. “God, this is dramatic.”
I looked at the stain covering my mother’s blouse and remembered every holiday when I had swallowed an insult just to keep the peace for Daniel.
Every drive home when he promised, “Next time, I’ll say something.”
There was always another next time.
Until now.
Four minutes, twelve seconds.
