“It is just a draft,” he said, his words coming fast and dismissive as he paced near the window. “We need things settled before the discharge paperwork is filed on Friday.”
“The joint savings account had forty-two thousand dollars in it on Monday,” I said, looking at his reflection in the dark window pane. “Now it has four hundred.”
Julian shifted his weight, his eyes darting away from the bassinets where Leo and Oliver slept.
“Business expenses,” he said, his fingers twitching against his watch strap. “Arthur is restructuring the distribution accounts for the corporate trust.”
“I am a forensic accountant, Julian,” I said, tapping my knuckles against the bedrail. “I know the difference between a trust restructure and a cash drain.”
“You are being paranoid,” he said, stepping closer to the bed and tapping the document. “This agreement includes a direct payment of two hundred thousand dollars to your personal account.”
“In exchange for what?” I asked.
“For their future,” he said, his voice dropping as he looked toward the door. “The family expects sole custody to protect the Vance legacy.”
