Ethan was Chloe’s ten-year-old son from her first marriage. His presence was the only reason I felt even a flicker of concern.
I texted Chloe.
Make sure Ethan has a safe place to sleep. Use your own funds. We will speak tomorrow.
Her reply came instantly.
My own funds? Are you serious?
I turned the phone facedown.
Maya had fallen asleep. Liam rested in the hospital bassinet, his small chest rising steadily beneath the blanket.
For the first time all night, there was silence.
I used it to think.
Fourteen thousand dollars.
That was the amount I had transferred before leaving for Germany. The money was meant to cover groceries, a night nurse, transportation to medical appointments, household help, and anything Maya or Liam needed while I was away.
I opened my bank account.
The transfer had gone into a secondary checking account that my mother managed with my permission. I had set it up years earlier after my father’s death. At first, it paid her rent and utilities. Over time, it became the account she used for family expenses.
