“Vincent… please listen to me, it was a mistake by the automated accounting firm,” Sophia stammered, tears tracking through her foundation.
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“Five million four hundred thousand dollars across two hundred and sixteen consecutive months is not an accounting mistake!” Vincent roared, slamming his open palm against the table.
The crystal water pitcher jumped, splashing ice water across the pristine legal documents spread before him.
“You told me that Claire had accepted the settlement! You brought me signed receipts with her signature every quarter!” Vincent yelled, his chest heaving.
“The signature was forged using a signature stamp acquired from Claire’s old medical records,” Frank Vance added quietly, delivering the final blow.
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I sat motionless, watching the architectural masterpiece of deceit that had kept my son and me in poverty while funding my replacement’s luxury.
For eighteen years, I had mended secondhand coats, bought discounted groceries, and skipped meals during the winter so Noah could have tutoring.
