you what it is, Dad,” I said, stepping smoothly between Richard and my mother. “Two years ago, when Harper wanted to open her luxury PR showroom on Fifth Avenue, and Connor needed five million dollars to cover his fraudulent freight manifests, they didn’t have the cash. And Eleanor was desperate to ensure that her precious, golden daughter appeared to be a high-flying entrepreneur to her country club friends.”
I turned, pointing a finger directly at Eleanor’s throat.
“So, she forged your power of attorney, Dad. She took out a twelve-million-dollar,