Before Augustin could reply, the door swung open with a clatter. My husband, Harrison Blythe, and his mother, Dahlia, entered, arms laden with shopping bags emblazoned with high-end designer logos. They claimed to have returned from errands, yet the moment they saw Augustin, their cheerful composure faltered.
Dahlia froze first, clutching her bags as though they could shield her. Harrison’s grin vanished, his eyes flicking between me and my grandfather, reading the question in my own face.
Augustin’s voice cut through the tension, calm yet impossible to ignore. “Harrison, Dahlia, may I ask you something? Where has the money I sent to my granddaughter gone?”
Harrison swallowed hard, while Dahlia’s lips pressed together, searching for an explanation that did not exist. I tightened my hold on my newborn daughter, feeling my hands tremble with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“Money?” Harrison asked finally, his voice wavering. “What… what money?”
Augustin straightened, his eyes flashing with a rare fury I had never seen before. “Do not play dumb with me. Liora has not received a single cent. Not one. And I believe I now know why.”