But sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Mark. Vivian. I have a very simple question.”

Neither of them answered.

“Where is the money I’ve been sending my granddaughter?”

Mark swallowed hard.

“Money? What money?”

My grandfather’s expression hardened.

“Don’t insult me with lies.”

His voice turned cold.

“Claire hasn’t received a single dollar.”

He stepped closer.

“And I think I know why.”

The silence became unbearable.

Even my baby stopped making sounds.

Then my grandfather said something that sent a chill down my spine.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

Mark opened his mouth—

But no words came out.

Vivian forced a tight smile.

“Edward, I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“Yes,” Mark added quickly, “it must be a banking error—”

My grandfather let out a low, humorless laugh.

“No.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope.

“I don’t believe in errors.”

Inside were documents.

Bank statements.

Transfer records.

Dates.

Amounts.

“I’ve been sending $250,000 every month for four years.”

The room spun.

Four years.

That was twelve million dollars.

Twelve million.

And I had never seen a single cent.

“The money was transferred into a joint account,” my grandfather continued.

He looked directly at Mark.