“You should have thought of that before leaving me on the side of the road.”
“That was Brandon’s idea,” she cried. “I didn’t know until we were already driving.”
The betrayal between them gave me no satisfaction. Nothing about this gave me satisfaction—only a cold, necessary sense of justice being served.
“The bank statements show you withdrew fifty thousand dollars three days before your father’s funeral, Melissa,” I said, keeping my voice clinical, detached. “Planning your fresh start already, were you?”
She began to sob—dramatic, heaving cries I’d heard countless times when she didn’t get her way.
“It’s too late for tears,” I continued. “Vincent will send over the paperwork. You both sign, renouncing all claims to Canton Family Orchards and the house. In return, I won’t press charges for fraud, attempted elder abuse, and theft.”
“And the fifty thousand?” Brandon asked, his businessman’s mind still calculating.
