“They already did,” my lawyer repeated, letting the words settle. “An officer called my office an hour ago. Your father filed a report accusing you of stealing from the family home.” I gripped the edge of the table, my coffee going cold. Ten years of being the reliable one, and this was where it had led, my own father naming me a thief to the police.
Then my lawyer’s voice shifted, calm and almost amused. “Genevieve, I want you to breathe. Do you remember what I told you when you first walked into my office?” I did. He had told me to keep every receipt, every statement, every co-signed document. I had. It was all in the folder beside my laptop. “Good,” he said. “Because the moment that officer sees what you’re holding, this stops being your problem and becomes theirs.”
STORY CONTINUES HERE… ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️
