Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“The withdrawal was three thousand dollars,” I said, my voice steady, though my hand was cold against the paper. “The teller at the Oak Creek branch showed me the signature. It was your name, written in black ink, five minutes after the bank opened.”
“I needed to move the money quickly,” he said, rubbing his neck again. “It was a time-sensitive opportunity. You don’t understand how these things work, Chloe. You stay home with the babies all day while I’m out making the connections that keep this family afloat.”
“I was working,” he insisted, his voice tight. “I spent four hours on Tuesday morning talking to the regional director at his beach house. You think I wanted to spend my week off talking about supply chain logistics with a man who was half-drunk on margaritas?”
“You had enough time to take six photos of your boat ride,” I said. “And you had enough time to post them before noon.”
He rubbed his neck, his eyes shifting toward the window. “That’s social media, Chloe. It’s part of the brand. If people think you’re successful, they want to do business with you. You have to project a certain lifestyle if you want to get the high-end clients.”
