“We received information that there were problems with your thesis.”
“What information?”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“Concern from the university.”
“Which office?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Interesting.”
Mom said, “Sylvie, don’t interrogate your father.”
“Did either of you contact Wexford Lane before my graduation?”
The fork in my mother’s hand stopped.
Marisa looked up.
Dad leaned back.
“Wexford Lane?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I smiled.
It was the first time that evening.
Dad’s face changed.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because they kept records.”
Mom looked at him.
“Robert?”
He took a drink.
“I may have made an inquiry.”
“You sent an anonymous misconduct complaint.”
“I was protecting you.”
I almost laughed.
“From graduating?”
“You were playing with sophisticated corporate data you didn’t understand.”
Marisa frowned.
“Wait, what is this?”
I kept my eyes on Dad.
“You knew Grandma’s trust had a condition tied to my degree.”
Mom’s face went white.
There.
Proof.
Dad did not move.
Marisa stared between us.
“What trust?”
No one answered.
I continued.
“You knew that if I failed to complete graduate school before thirty, approximately forty million dollars would fall under your control.”
Marisa whispered:
“Forty million?”
Mom found her voice.
