And in the end, Henry Whitmore did not need to threaten him, destroy him, or announce who owned what.
He only had to walk into a bank, stand beside his daughter, look at the record of what had been taken, and ask the question Preston had built his entire betrayal around avoiding.
Who authorized these transfers?
Not me.
And for the first time in my marriage, that answer was enough to make everyone stop listening to Preston and start looking at the proof.
