The officer read the page once.
Then he read it again.
His jaw tightened.
“Do you have the messages from today?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
I opened my phone.
I showed him the request for $12,000.
I showed him the $1 receipt.
I showed him the message where my father called me selfish and told me I owed the family.
The younger officer stopped pretending not to react.
He looked at the complaint again, then at his partner.
Ethan stood beside me with one hand near my back, not touching unless I needed him, but close enough that I could feel him there.
The older officer took a slow breath.
“Mrs. Hayes,” he said, “I need to ask this carefully. Did your father ever give you $12,000?”
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