Dean stood. “She’s lying.”
“That’s private.”
I turned to him. “You moved money under Jonah’s name after he was already in custody. You let his $18,000 hide your $600,000.”
A board member rose. “Dean, don’t leave.”
I looked back at Celeste.
“You thought I was poor enough to rent and tired enough to erase. You were wrong about both.”
The board member stepped forward.
“Celeste, step away from the podium. Counsel, call an emergency vote to suspend her pending review and notify the attorney general’s charity division.”
“Dean, don’t leave.”
***
Months later, Dean faced charges, Celeste was gone from the foundation, and Jonah had completed restitution.
When Jonah found me reading scholarship applications, he paused in the doorway.
“You belong here,” he said.
“I know.”
“I should have trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I should have trusted you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll never manage you again.”
