“What account?”
“My father’s money.”
His face stayed perfectly calm.
“The trust he left Sophie.”
“Oh.”
He reached for his drink.
“It’s fine.”
“You’ve checked it?”
“I moved it.”
I stared.
“You moved it?”
“A few months ago.”
“Where?”
“A certificate of deposit.”
“Why?”
“For safety.”
He sighed impatiently.
“Sophie is eighteen. Your father wouldn’t want her blowing her inheritance because some boyfriend talked her into something stupid.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whose name is the CD under?” Baby& Pet Names
“Mine.”
I stared at him.
“Your name?”
“It protects the money.”
“Show me.”
“Claire.”
“Show me.”
He finally sighed.
“The paperwork is in my briefcase.”
And the next morning—
he showed me.
Official-looking statement.
Letterhead I vaguely recognized.
A balance close to what I remembered.
Adrian tapped the page.
“See?”
“Same money.”
“Safer place.”
I was exhausted.
Grieving.
Scared.
So I said:
“Okay.”
That one word haunted me later.
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