crazy, Ava. Come on. Give us proof.”
I stared at the red recording light, then lowered my voice. “You want proof?”
Marcus smirked. “Exactly.”
So I gave him enough rope.
“Proof that you opened a loan under Daniel’s name on March tenth?” I asked. “Proof that Tessa forged my signature on invoices from Harbor Grace Foundation? Or proof that Mom transferred continue reading …
