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I looked at my parents, really looked at them, and suddenly everything made sense.
The renovations, the vacations, the car, the designer handbags.
All of it.
“How much is left?” I repeated.
Still, no answer.
My grandmother stepped forward slightly.
“You will provide a full financial accounting within forty-eight hours,” she said. “Every transaction. Every investment. Every dollar.”
“We were trying to help her,” my father insisted. “We wanted to grow the money.”
“You gambled with it,” my grandmother snapped.
“I want to see everything too,” I said. “All of it.”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“You don’t understand how complicated this is,” she said.
“No,” I replied quietly. “I think I understand perfectly.”
PART 2
My grandmother’s voice softened slightly when she turned back to me, though the steel beneath it remained unmistakable and unyielding.
“Olivia, sweetheart, why don’t you go get yourself something to drink,” she said gently, though her eyes never left my parents. “Your parents and I need to have a very serious conversation.”
“No,” I replied, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Whatever this is, it involves me directly, and I am not walking away again.”
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded once with approval that carried both pride and grim understanding.
“You are absolutely right,” she said quietly. “You deserve to hear every word of this.”
She turned back toward them, her posture straightening even further, as if preparing for battle.
“I want a complete accounting of everything,” she said slowly and clearly. “Every transaction, every investment, every withdrawal, and I expect it delivered within forty-eight hours without excuses or delays.”
My mother’s voice trembled as she tried to regain control of the situation that had slipped completely out of her hands.
“You are making this into something much worse than it needs to be,” she said, glancing nervously at the growing number of people watching us.
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