Chapter 18 - The False Apology
I looked at Dad.
“What did you do?”
He immediately knew.
That was the worst part.
His shoulders dropped.
“Claire.”
“What fundraiser?”
“It wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone.”
I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me.
“What did you do?”
Ryan had created a private fundraising packet for investors.
The cover displayed photographs of Lily and Noah taken from my social media.
Across the top was the logo of my foundation.
Below it:
THE MILLER FAMILY LEGACY BENEFIT.
The packet claimed that a February gala would raise money for child highway safety.
In reality, eighty percent of projected proceeds were designated as “event management and development recovery costs.”
Ryan’s company would receive those costs.
My father had agreed to serve as honorary chairman.
His name was printed beneath mine.
Without my knowledge.
Without my permission.
“How much money?”
Dad looked at the ground.
“About eighty-two thousand has come in.”
My stomach turned.
“People donated because they thought they were helping children.”
“We planned to reimburse everything once Ryan’s financing cleared.”
“You used Lily and Noah to raise money for Ryan?”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“That isn’t how I saw it.”
“How did you see it?”
“As temporary.”
“Everything is temporary to you until someone else pays for it.”
He tried to speak.
I stopped him.
“You used photographs of my dead children.”
He closed his mouth.
For once, there was no defense.
Rachel arrived with two investigators from the bank’s fraud division.
They were not police officers.
Not yet.
But Dad understood what their presence meant.
He handed over his phone voluntarily.
Before leaving, he turned toward me.
“I really was sorry.”
“I believe you.”
He looked surprised.
I continued.
“I also believe you were hoping your apology arrived before I discovered this.”
His face collapsed.
That was the difference now.
I no longer needed to decide whether he was entirely good or entirely bad.
People are often more dangerous than that.
They can love you and still exploit you.
Regret hurting you and still hide what they did.
Miss you and still want access to what belongs to you.
Dad walked toward the investigators’ car.
Then my phone rang.
Melissa.
I answered.
Her voice was shaking.
“Claire, Ryan is gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“His apartment is empty.”
“His office too.”
“And Dad gave him access to the fundraiser account.”
Rachel heard through the speaker.
“How much is left?” she asked.
Melissa began sobbing.
“Nothing.”
May you like
The entire eighty-two thousand dollars was gone.
And according to the bank records, Ryan had transferred it six hours earlier.
