“She told me you took a payoff,” he said, his voice cracking.

“My father showed me the bank transfer.”

“A hundred thousand dollars, deposited into an account in your name.”

“I never saw that money,” I said, my voice rising.

“I lived in a shelter in Indiana for three weeks because I couldn’t afford a security deposit.”

“I worked two jobs just to buy groceries.”

“Do you really think I would have done that if I had a hundred thousand dollars in the bank?”

Ethan turned around.

His eyes were wet, a rare crack in his professional armor.

“They forged the account,” he whispered.

“They used my signature from my old employment files,” I said.

“And they used a Harrison holding company to transfer the funds.”

“It was a perfect paper trail to make you hate me.”

“And it worked,” I said.

He walked back to the bedside, his steps heavy.

He reached out and took my hand.

His grip was tight, almost painful, but I did not pull away.

“I am so sorry, Hannah,” he whispered.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “Just help me. Help me keep our children safe.”