“I am protecting this family,” my father said, his tone clipped. “I am containing the damage you caused.”

My mother appeared at the top of the stairs, her knuckles white on the polished wooden banister.

“What is all this shouting?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Arthur, please. This is a private family matter.”

“It ceased to be a private matter when fraud was committed, Mrs. Parker,” Arthur said.

He stepped forward, his leather shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood floor.

“Your husband has just misused his banking authority to retaliate against his own daughter,” Arthur said.

“It is a standard security hold,” my father replied smoothly, not looking at Arthur. “I am the regional director. I have a fiduciary duty to flag suspicious connections.”

“There is no connection,” I said, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “I have never signed a single document for Brandon’s businesses.”

“The system doesn’t know that yet,” my father said.

He walked over to the small table in the hall and picked up his glass of scotch.

He took a slow sip, his eyes locked on mine over the rim of the glass.