“I built that company,” he spat.

“I worked eighty hours a week while you sat at home.”

“You did nothing but collect your family’s interest checks.”

“I trusted you,” I said.

“That was my only mistake.”

“And it is one I am currently correcting.”

I turned toward the door.

Margaret stepped aside, her face tight with resentment.

“You’ll regret this, Emily,” she whispered as I passed.

“We gave you a home.”

“We treated you like a daughter.”

“You treated me like a bank,” I said.

I walked out of the office and down the long hallway.

The family portraits on the wall seemed to watch me pass.

Portraits of holidays, anniversaries, and dinners.

Every single one of them paid for with money that didn’t belong to them.

I reached the front door and grabbed my coat from the brass rack.

I slipped it on, my hands trembling slightly now that the adrenaline was fading.

I opened the heavy oak door and stepped out onto the porch.

The cold rain hit my face, washing away the warmth of the house.