A line of credit tied to a business I had never agreed to support.
Warren had cried when I confronted him. He said he was desperate. He said he did it for us. He said a wife with classified assignments could never understand ordinary pressure.
I wanted to believe him then.
So I made him sign acknowledgments. I made him agree to financial monitoring. I made him promise never to use my name again.
And then, one month ago, he went to my parents for money.
That was when my father stopped being patient.
I placed everything in a black leather case.
When I came downstairs, headlights swept across the windows.
Warren stormed in before the door had fully opened.
His tie was loose. His face was flushed. His hair, usually perfect, had fallen across his forehead.
For once, he looked exactly like what he was.
A frightened man wearing expensive fabric.
