Evidence?
Of what?
I opened the folder.
The first page explained everything.
Twenty-two years earlier, my grandfather had created a trust.
A very large trust.
One designed specifically for me.
My father had been appointed temporary administrator.
The funds were supposed to transfer to me when I turned thirty-five.
I was thirty-five.
The money had never arrived.
My vision blurred.
I looked at my father.
Slowly.
Carefully.
“You took it.”
