“Don’t fight me,” he said calmly.
I did.
The slap came fast—hard enough to snap my head sideways.White light burst behind my eyes.My ears rang.
“Sit!”
He shoved me into Ray’s old office, kicked the folding chair into place, and forced me down.Metal screeched against the floor, the sound sharp and final.
He paced once in front of me.Controlled.Coiled.
“Now,” he said, “what’s the plan?”
Rage simmered beneath his composure—tight, barely contained.Sweat beaded at his hairline, catching the fluorescent light.
“I don’t know how to transfer it,” I told him.
“Get me my money.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” I said, forcing my voice steady.“I don’t have the access code.I can see the money, but I can’t move anything.”
His jaw flexed.A vein jumped.
“Then figure it out.”
I reached for the laptop—slow, careful.My hands shook as I opened it, the screen flaring to life.
“I’m looking for a transfer workaround,” I said, typing nonsense.Stalling.Buying seconds.
He laughed softly and stepped closer, blocking my view.
“Don’t insult me,” he said.“Just get me my money.”
While his eyes stayed on my face, I opened Ray’s email and fired off a message to Creed.No subject.No explanation.Just enough.
Then I looked up.“How did your father find out Ray was skimming?”
That stopped him.
“My cousin Aurora,” Francesco said after a beat.“Accounting degree.Audited the books.Noticed the padding.”
“And Marco sent you.”
A shrug.“Of course.”
“But Ray knew if he gave you the money, he’d die anyway.”
Something like respect flickered in Francesco’s eyes.“You’re sharper than you look.”
His words landed like rot spreading through bone.
“I have someone watching your house,” he said casually.“You take too long, I make a call.”
My chest constricted.My girls’ faces flashed behind my eyes—soft hair, sleepy smiles, trust.
He stepped closer.I leaned back against the chair, trapped.
“I’m working as fast as I can,” I said.My voice cracked.I hated it did.
