Chapter 1 - HOW DID THEY LET YOU OUT?My father was on his knees scrubbing my living-room floor when I came home a month early.
For several seconds, none of us moved.
Thomas held a gray cleaning rag in one hand.
His checked shirt was damp at the elbows. One knee of his khaki pants had darkened where it pressed against the wet hardwood.
Olivia sat beside my sofa with a cup of coffee.
My mother-in-law looked comfortable.
My father looked humiliated.
I was still standing inside the open front door with two travel bags beside me when Olivia kicked the rag away from him.
“Keep scrubbing. Your daughter won’t be coming home anytime soon.”
The rag slid across the floor.
Dad crawled after it.
Then he saw me.
His fingers opened.
“Genevieve…”
He looked frightened.
Not relieved.
“How did they let you out?”
I stared at him.
“Let me out of where?”
Olivia stood so quickly her coffee tipped onto the side table.
“Genevieve.”
She said my name like I was the person who had arrived somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be.
I dropped my travel bag.
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
His face had gone gray.
“Arthur said…”
He stopped.
“What did Arthur say?”
Olivia stepped between us.
“Your father is confused.”
Dad looked at her.
For the first time, anger cut through his shock.
“No, I’m not.”
I walked toward him.
He struggled to stand.
I caught his elbow.
His hands were rougher than I remembered.
“When did you get here?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“You’ve been living here?”
He looked ashamed.
“Sort of.”
Olivia moved toward the side table.
There was a thick navy bank folder beside her.
She grabbed it.
Too quickly.
I noticed.
She noticed me noticing.
“Give me that.”
“It’s Arthur’s.”
“This is my house too.”
I reached for it.
Olivia pulled back.
The folder opened.
Papers spilled across the hardwood.
One sheet landed beside my shoe.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION — $4,500,000.
Below it was the name of my private brokerage custodian.
Destination:
Westbridge Acquisition Holdings LLC.
Arthur’s company.
At the bottom was my signature.
Perfect at first glance.
Wrong at the second.
The G looped too narrowly.
The final e slanted upward.
I knew because I had written my name almost every day for thirty years.
“That isn’t my signature.”
Dad stared at the page.
“What?”
I picked it up.
Olivia’s face hardened.
“Arthur can explain.”
“Where is he?”
“At work.”
“What is Westbridge Acquisition Holdings?”
No answer.
Then I saw the approval date.
Three weeks earlier.
The same week my father arrived here.
The same week he apparently began believing I had been imprisoned.
Dad sank onto the sofa.
“Oh God.”
I looked at him.
“What did Arthur tell you?”
His voice came apart.
“That you’d been arrested in Dubai.”
I stared.
“He said your company investigation turned criminal.”
“What company investigation?”
“He showed me emails.”
“What emails?”
“From lawyers.”
Olivia stepped in.
“Thomas, stop.”
I turned toward her.
“Why would he stop?”
She said nothing.
Dad continued.
“Arthur said your passport was seized. That the embassy couldn’t interfere. That contact could make the case worse.”
My stomach went cold.
I had been in Abu Dhabi for seven weeks helping integrate a logistics company my employer had acquired.
My assignment had originally been twelve weeks.
The integration finished early.
I decided to surprise Arthur.
My father and I had not spoken during the trip.
That was unusual.
But not impossible.
Our relationship had become strained over the previous year, and Arthur had repeatedly told me Dad needed “space.”
Now I understood that Arthur had apparently told Dad something else.
“When did you last try calling me?”
Dad’s face crumpled.
“Arthur said they confiscated your phone.”
I looked at Olivia.
She backed toward the sofa.
I held up the transfer paper.
“Cute story.”
My voice sounded colder than I felt.
“Arthur stole my signature before he stole my money.”
Olivia shook her head.
“You don’t understand what that transfer was for.”
“Then explain it.”
Silence.
Dad stared at the $4.5 million.
Then whispered:
“I helped him.”
I turned.
“What?”
His eyes filled.
“Genevieve, I thought I was helping get you home.”
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And suddenly the prison lie and the transfer were no longer two separate things.
They were one transaction.
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