Denise investigated.

There was no loan.

Instead, bank records showed Madison had transferred money from Eric’s business account into her brother’s failing restaurant for nearly eighteen months.

Eric stared at the statements in my library.

“She told me those were vendor payments.”

“They weren’t.”

His face collapsed.

“How much?”

“Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand.”

He sat down.

For the first time, I didn’t rescue him.

I let the number hurt.

Madison arrived an hour later, furious.

“You had no right to dig into my finances.”

“You used company money.”

“It’s marital money.”

“It’s a corporation,” Eric said quietly.

She turned toward him. “Don’t start.”

He stood.

“No. You told me Dad was using us. You told me he never helped us. You told me I deserved his money.”

Madison’s expression hardened.

“And you do.”

I slid Eleanor’s letter across the table.

“Read it.”

Madison scanned it, then laughed.

“This changes nothing.”

“It changes everything,” Denise said from the doorway.

Madison spun around.