Claire stared at him.
“Grandpa, what—”
“Not yet.”
His voice wasn’t cruel.
It was surgical.
The Bentley glided through the storm like it didn’t exist.
The police station appeared through the white haze, brick and glass glowing under halogen lights.
Her grandfather stepped out first.
He didn’t wait for the driver.
Claire followed, clutching Lily against her chest, her legs shaking beneath her.
Inside, the air smelled like burnt coffee and wet concrete.
A young officer looked up from the front desk.
“Can I help you?”
Her grandfather set both hands on the counter.
“I need to file a report for financial exploitation and theft.”
The officer blinked.
“Sir, you’ll need to—”
“My name is Edward Harrington.”
The officer’s face changed.
Everyone in this town knew that name.
“Of course, Mr. Harrington. Let me get someone for you.”
Five minutes later, they were in a back office with Detective Sarah Chen, a woman in her forties with sharp eyes and no patience for small talk.
She gestured for them to sit.
Claire lowered herself into the chair, every muscle in her body screaming.
Lily had stopped crying but her tiny fists kept clenching and unclenching against Claire’s chest.
Detective Chen folded her hands on the desk.
“Tell me what happened.”
Edward Harrington didn’t hesitate.
“Five years ago, I established a monthly trust payment of fifteen thousand dollars to my daughter-in-law’s household account. The funds were designated for my granddaughter Claire’s education, medical care, and general welfare.”
Detective Chen wrote quickly.
