Chapter 2
Ryan stared at the floor for so long that the silence became unbearable.
I wanted him to deny it.
A stupid part of me still wanted him to laugh and say Dad had misunderstood the paperwork.
But when Ryan finally looked at me, guilt was written all over his face.
“I was going to put it back.”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because my mind couldn't understand what I was hearing.
“Put it back?”
“It was temporary.”
Dad stepped beside me.
“Two hundred and forty thousand dollars is not temporary.”
Diane crossed her arms.
“We needed it.”
I turned toward her.
“You needed my inheritance?”
She lifted her chin.
“The family needed it.”
“What family?”
“Our family.”
I stared at her.
“You mean you.”
Her expression hardened.
“My house needed repairs. Ryan wanted to help.”
“Your house?”
I could barely speak.
“You hit me with a belt because I wouldn't let you control my daughter, and you've been living on money stolen from me?”
Diane stepped forward.
Dad immediately moved between us.
“Don't.”
She stopped.
Ryan rubbed his face.
“Emily, please. Let me explain everything.”
“Start talking.”
He glanced at Dad.
“Privately.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“My father stays.”
Ryan's jaw tightened.
That tiny flash of irritation told me everything.
Even now, he wanted control.
Dad noticed it too.
He said nothing.
Ryan finally sat on the edge of the couch.
“Mom was behind on the mortgage.”
Diane snapped, “You don't need to tell them my business.”
Ryan ignored her.
“She was going to lose the house.”
“So you stole my money.”
“I borrowed it.”
“You forged my signature!”
“I panicked.”
My chest tightened.
“How long have you known about my grandmother's inheritance?”
He hesitated.
“Since before she died.”
That answer hurt differently.
Grandma Rose had adored Ryan.
She invited him to holidays.
Bought him birthday gifts.
Defended him whenever Dad expressed doubts.
And Ryan had been thinking about her money before she was even gone.
Dad opened another document.
“The transfer wasn't made directly to Diane's mortgage company.”
Ryan went still.
I looked at Dad.
“What?”
Dad handed me the statement.
There were multiple transfers.
Eighty thousand dollars.
Forty thousand.
Twenty-five thousand.
Payments to credit cards.
A luxury dealership.
A contractor.
Then one transfer that made my stomach twist.
Forty thousand dollars to something called Holloway Ventures LLC.
“What is this?”
Ryan looked away.
Dad answered.
“A company created six months ago.”
“By who?”
“Ryan and Diane.”
I turned toward my husband.
“You started a company together?”
Ryan stood quickly.
“It wasn't what it looks like.”
“Then what does it look like?”
“We were investing.”
“With my money?”
He came closer.
“We could have doubled it.”
I backed away.
“Don't touch me.”
He stopped.
“Emily, I was doing this for us.”
“No. You weren't.”
“For our future.”
“You lied to me for months.”
“Because I knew you'd panic.”
My mouth fell open.
Dad's voice became sharp.
“Careful.”
Ryan looked at him.
“You don't get to come into my house and threaten me.”
Dad stared at him.
“Your house?”
That question changed Ryan's face.
Dad pulled another paper from the envelope.
I noticed it immediately.
A property document.
Ryan noticed too.
His shoulders stiffened.
Dad handed it to me.
“Your grandmother helped with the down payment when you two bought this place.”
“I know.”
“She protected that money.”
I scanned the page.
Then I saw my name.
Only my name.
“What is this?”
“A separate property agreement.”
Ryan swore under his breath.
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
He said nothing.
Dad continued.
“Your grandmother's attorney prepared it. The portion she contributed was legally designated as Emily's separate property.”
My heart hammered.
I remembered signing documents years earlier.
Ryan had rushed me through them.
He said they were routine.
Dad turned another page.
“And because Ryan used money from Emily's protected inheritance without authorization, my attorney believes there is a strong case for fraud.”
Diane suddenly laughed.
“Fraud? Against his wife?”
“Yes.”
Dad's voice was ice.
“Marriage doesn't give someone permission to forge signatures.”
Ryan paced toward the window.
“Can everyone stop acting like I'm some criminal?”
I stared at him.
“You stole two hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
“I was trying to help my mother!”
“And what about me?”
He turned.
“What?”
“What about our daughter?”
His face changed.
I stepped closer.
“Last month I asked if we could enroll Sophie in the preschool near my office.”
“Emily—”
“You said we couldn't afford it.”
He looked down.
“You made me feel irresponsible for asking.”
“I was under pressure.”
“You made me stop seeing my therapist because you said the appointments were too expensive.”
Dad looked sharply at Ryan.
I continued.
“You complained when I bought Sophie new shoes.”
“That's not fair.”
“You counted every dollar I spent while you gave your mother almost a quarter of a million dollars.”
Diane rolled her eyes.
“Oh, stop being dramatic.”
Dad turned so quickly she stepped back.
“My daughter is allowed to be dramatic after being robbed and assaulted in her own home.”
Diane pointed at me.
“She turned Ryan against his family.”
I laughed bitterly.
“No, Diane. You never let him become his own person.”
Ryan's face hardened.
“Don't talk about my mother like that.”
There it was.
Even now.
I looked at him for a long moment.
Something inside me became very calm.
“Where's Sophie?”
Ryan blinked.
“What?”
“My daughter. Where is she?”
“With Mrs. Carter next door.”
Diane waved a hand.
“She was getting upset.”
Fear shot through me.
“How much did she see?”
No one answered.
“How much did my six-year-old daughter see?”
Ryan looked uncomfortable.
“She saw Mom pick up the belt.”
My stomach turned.
I grabbed my purse.
Dad took my arm gently.
“I'll go with you.”
Ryan stepped toward the door.
“Emily, don't leave.”
I looked at him.
He suddenly seemed desperate.
Maybe because he realized this was no longer another argument I would eventually forgive.
“Please,” he said. “We can fix this.”
I shook my head.
“You watched your mother hit me.”
“I told her to stop.”
“You whispered.”
“Emily—”
“You grabbed me when I defended myself.”
His eyes filled.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
I opened the front door.
“You made choices.”
Dad followed me.
Ryan came onto the porch.
“Where are you going?”
“To get Sophie.”
“And then?”
I turned.
“I don't know yet.”
Panic spread across his face.
“You can't take her away from me.”
My hands started shaking again.
Dad placed himself beside me.
I looked directly at Ryan.
“Tonight, I'm taking her somewhere she doesn't have to watch her grandmother beat her mother while her father stands there.”
Ryan went silent.
I walked next door.
Mrs. Carter opened the door before I knocked.
Her eyes were red.
Sophie stood behind her clutching her stuffed rabbit.
The second she saw me, she ran.
“Mommy!”
I dropped to my knees.
She wrapped herself around me.
Then she touched the red mark on my arm.
Her little face crumpled.
“Grandma hurt you.”
I held her tighter.
“Yes, baby.”
“Is Daddy mad at you?”
That question broke my heart.
“No.”
My voice shook.
“No, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong, and neither did I.”
Sophie buried her face against my neck.
Mrs. Carter looked toward our house.
“I heard everything.”
Dad's expression changed.
“Everything?”
She nodded.
Then she held up her phone.
“And my porch camera recorded Diane entering your house with that belt already in her hand.”
I froze.
Already in her hand.
That meant Diane hadn't impulsively grabbed it from the chair.
She had brought it there.
Mrs. Carter swallowed.
“She came over from her house carrying it.”
My blood turned cold.
This hadn't been an argument that spiraled out of control.
May you like
Diane had arrived planning to use that belt.
And judging by Ryan's face when I looked back toward our porch, he already knew.
