“Your father owned several logistics companies operating throughout the East Coast.”
I felt as though the floor shifted beneath me.
“He never told us that.”
“No,” she said quietly. “He didn’t.”
The phone in my pocket rang again.
Mom.
For the third time.
I ignored it.
The agent continued.
“Your father discovered millions of dollars disappearing through shell corporations.”
“Who was taking it?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she turned a folder toward me.
Across the top was a photograph of my mother.
Beneath it:
PRIMARY SUSPECT.
I couldn’t breathe.
“No.”
“He spent years gathering evidence.”
“That’s insane.”
“Your father believed your mother was working with a financial crime network laundering money through his businesses.”
I grabbed the edge of the table.
My hands were shaking.
“You expect me to believe my mother is some kind of criminal mastermind?”
“No,” the agent said.
“We expect you to believe your father was terrified.”
