“Explain what?”
“That there were misunderstandings.”
I looked toward the financial records.
“Did you approve those transfers?”
He hesitated.
“Some of them.”
“Did you know several invoices were false?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Did you transfer company funds into accounts connected to yourself?”
He didn’t answer.
I felt a familiar ache.
Three years ago, I would have interpreted his silence as distress.
I would have stepped closer.
Taken his hand.
Promised that we would figure everything out together.
That afternoon, I finally understood the difference between helping someone through hardship and protecting them from the consequences of their own decisions.
“Derek,” I said quietly, “you didn’t lose this money because your company failed.”
He looked down.
“You lost it because you chose to misuse it.”
A few seconds passed.
Then his expression changed.
He looked at me with sudden desperation.
“Amelia, sweetheart, I made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. But I love you.”
