He’d said the money belonged to our family.
He’d insisted that I was humiliating him by refusing to trust his financial judgment.
When I wouldn’t change my mind, he’d stopped discussing it.
Or so I’d believed.
“He stopped asking,” I whispered.
Price closed the folder.
“Mrs. Brooks, we may need copies of your daughter’s trust documents.”
My mouth went dry.
“Are you saying this is about money?”
“We don’t know the full picture yet.”
But I could see that the question was no longer whether Adrian had betrayed me.
It was how far he had gone.
The following morning, a hospital social worker helped me arrange a safe place to stay after Maya was discharged.
A temporary protective order was being pursued, and investigators advised me not to return home alone.
I called my aunt, Rebecca, who lived in Brentwood.
She answered on the second ring.
“Elena? Is everything okay?”
