"No, it's impossible—" I choke. "Daddy wouldn't. He wouldn't steal. Not from anyone, not from work. Not from Jordan."
My mom's face crumples. "They had evidence of the embezzlement. Bank statements. Said the money went into an account he might have been saving. For your college."
For a moment I'm sure I misheard. "What?"
She nods, tears spilling freely now. "Sabrina… you've been talking about not going to NSC anymore. Suddenly it was Yale or UConn."
The world tilts. "Yes, but I didn’t ask or expect him to pay for that!" I yell.
"He's a proud man, you know. It's hard enough for him that you help with the rent. Maybe he felt guilty and thought—"
“No! Daddy would never steal even if he thought he had to pay for Yale. Someone framed him," I say, grasping at air. "They had to. He wouldn't do this."
"I know," Mom says, her fingers twisting into her shirt. "I know in my bones he’s innocent. But why doesn't he deny it? The media is already calling him a thief."
I look back at the TV where they're replaying the same clip, the same numbers: $482,450.25 diverted over four months and my stomach lurches.
Half a million dollars. The approximate amount Yale could cost over four years.
"Where's Drew?" I croak.
"At home. The police spoke to him as well, but he wasn't involved in this. They're saying it was just your dad."
I stand. "Alright, I'm calling Jordan."
Mom hesitates. "Bree. Sweetheart. Maybe not this time."
"What do you mean, Mom? It's his father's company. His company," I insist. "He'll know something about who framed Daddy."
Her eyes flash with something like hope and fear sewn together. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Bree."
I stop and turn to her. "He's my boyfriend, Mom. And maybe the one person on earth who can fix this mess."
I run to my room and shut the door.
My hands shake so badly I almost drop my phone. I stab his name, press it to my ear, pace in circles while it rings and rings.
Voicemail.
"Jordan, it's me. Call me. Please." My voice cracks on the last word.
I try again.
And again.
It's almost an hour before my phone finally lights up with his name.
"Bree?"
Just his voice makes me cry. "Jordan."
"Baby. You've been crying." I hear it—that tight note in his tone he gets when he's barely in control. "I'm here, okay? It's going to be alright."
"I don't know how it happened but I swear Daddy didn't do it. There must have been a mistake." The words tumble out in a rush. "They're saying he stole from Apex, that he sent money to my college account, but he wouldn't, Jordan. He wouldn't. You have to believe me."
"I believe you, love," he says softly.
I cling to those words like a ledge.
