Ryan stepped forward.
“You went through my accounts?”
I stared at him.
“Our accounts.”
He stopped.
Marlene pointed to several transfers with a capped pen.
“Some of these reimbursements were submitted through the family business.
The supporting expenses don’t match.”
Ryan’s voice sharpened.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means I had to flag them.”
“You work for my family.”
“Which is exactly why I had to flag them.”
Lauren backed toward the counter.
“I didn’t know anything about business accounts.”
Ryan turned on her so quickly I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
“Lauren.
Stop talking.”
Her expression hardened.
“Don’t tell me to stop talking.
You told me the money was yours.”
Another piece fell into place.
Ryan had not simply lied to me about Lauren.
He had lied to Lauren about the money.
I looked between them.
“How much did you tell her you had?”
“Emma,” Ryan said.
Lauren answered instead.
“He said the apartment was temporary until he could separate things cleanly.”
The room seemed to narrow around me.
“Separate what?”
Lauren’s lips parted, but Ryan slammed his palm against the counter.
“Enough.”
The pastry box jumped.
Marlene did not flinch.
Neither did I.
“You don’t get to decide when this conversation ends,” I said.
Ryan looked at me with a fury I had almost never seen during our marriage.
His charm had always been his favorite weapon.
Anger meant the charm was no longer working.
“You set me up.”
“No.
I invited everyone involved into the same room.”
“You called my accountant behind my back.”
Marlene answered before I could.
“Your mother called me.”
Ryan froze.
As if summoned by the words, another car pulled into the driveway.
This time Ryan recognized it immediately.
“No,” he muttered.
His mother entered two minutes later without waiting to be invited.
Elaine Mercer was still buttoning her raincoat when she saw Lauren standing beside the counter.
Her gaze moved to Ryan’s wrinkled shirt, the lease papers, the bank statements and finally me.
She understood enough.
“So it wasn’t gambling,” she said.
