“That’s not true.”
“Would you like the bank statements?”
His face changed then. Not completely. But enough.
“That was company money,” he muttered.
“No, Ethan. It was mine.”
Before he could answer, my phone rang. International number. I answered on speaker.
Ashley’s furious voice exploded through the line.
“Claire, what is going on? My cards are blocked. I’m in a boutique and my card was declined in front of everyone. Do you know how humiliating this is?”
Ashley was twenty-two, living in an apartment I paid for, driving a car I paid for, and spending on cards I maintained. For years, she had spoken to me like generosity was something I owed her.
“Ashley,” I said calmly, “from today on, you’re responsible for yourself.”
“What?”
“Your brother and I are divorced. I no longer pay your expenses.”
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She erupted. “You can’t just cut me off! My tuition is due. I was literally about to buy a bag!”
I hung up.
Ethan’s face reddened.
“Reactivate her accounts. Now.”
I tilted my head. “She’s your sister. You support her. You’re a successful businessman, aren’t you?”