pale.
‘Where is Claire?’ Leo asked.
Grant stopped. ‘At home.’
‘You left her at home?’
‘She’s having some false labor panic. It happens.’
Leo looked down at his phone again. ‘She said her water broke.’
Grant felt irritation rise. Claire had already called him. Of course she had. She never understood timing.
‘She’s exaggerating.’
‘With that diagnosis?’
Grant’s eyes narrowed. ‘Since when do you know her diagnosis?’
‘Maren told me after you asked Dad for money using my restaurant as an excuse.’
The room seemed to still. A bartender glanced over, then looked away too quickly.
Grant lowered his voice. ‘Don’t do this here.’
‘Where is the money?’ Leo asked.
‘What money?’
Leo stepped closer. ‘The eighteen thousand seven hundred dollars you told Claire you sent to me.’
Grant smiled, but it felt wrong on his own face. ‘You needed help.’
‘I didn’t receive a cent.’
‘The transfer may take time.’
‘My accountant is in the office. She checked. Nothing pending. Nothing requested. And the restaurant isn’t in foreclosure, Grant. We refinanced six weeks ago.’
Grant’s smile vanished.
Behind Leo, a woman in a camel coat stood near the back hallway. Maren. Claire’s older sister. Arms folded. Eyes cold.
Grant’s stomach dropped.
‘Maren,’ he said. ‘This is a family matter.’
‘It became a legal matter when you forged my sister’s signature,’ she replied.
The investors near the bar had gone silent. Leo looked as if someone had struck him.
‘Forged?’ he said.
Grant pointed at Maren. ‘She has hated me since the wedding.’
‘I disliked you at the wedding,’ Maren said. ‘I started hating you when you told Claire her miscarriage was harder on you because you had to watch.’
Leo looked at Grant.
Grant felt the room turning against him and did what he always did when cornered. He reached for outrage.
‘Claire is emotional. Her family has been trying to control her money from the beginning. She wanted to help, and now she’s embarrassed.’
Maren lifted her phone. ‘Then you won’t mind explaining that to the police.’
The word police cut through his performance.
Grant laughed once. ‘For what? Moving money between spouses? Good luck.’
Maren’s eyes did not move. ‘The account you moved it into was opened under a company connected to a condo purchase in Providence. Not Leo’s business. Not yours, officially. But the email used to register it matches the recovery address on your private phone.’
Grant felt his mouth go dry.
Leo whispered, ‘A condo?’
Maren took one step closer. ‘And the woman listed as the emergency contact on that purchase agreement is named Elise Venn.’
Leo looked at Grant as if seeing him for the first time.
Grant had planned for anger. He had planned for Claire crying, for her father threatening, for lawyers sending letters after the baby came. He had not planned for Maren standing in his brother’s restaurant with names and documents before the night was over.
He stepped back.
‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Maren’s phone rang. She looked at the screen, and her face changed.
Claire.
She answered immediately.
The entire restaurant seemed to hold its breath.
‘I’m here,’ Maren said. ‘Are you at the hospital?’
Grant moved toward her. ‘Give me the phone.’
Leo blocked him.
It was the first loyal thing Leo had
