She’d made chicken soup.
While she set out the dinner rolls, she asked a question that left me frozen.
“Rachel, why were you in pr*son?”
I gripped my spoon.
“Because my husband and my sister st*le money using my name. Then they convinced everyone I was the one responsible.”
I told her how I’d built Scioto Medical Supply from a tiny rented storefront, working Sundays to land contracts with private clinics.
Brian handled sales. Nicole ran administration.
I trusted them both.
When my mother-in-law, Marjorie, became gravely ill, I spent weeks by her side at the h*spital.
During that time, bank transactions appeared that I supposedly authorized.
The money ended up with an unfamiliar vendor.
When the investigation began, Brian testified that I had ordered the transfers.
Nicole produced documents that appeared to confirm it.
My attorney couldn’t prove otherwise.
I lost at trial.
Dorothy listened without interrupting.
