My fingers went numb.
“That’s impossible.”
“I’m sorry. The withdrawals appear to have been authorized by the account custodian.”
“Who?”
I already knew.
Some part of me knew before she said it.
“Mark Collins.”
My father.
The room tilted just slightly.
My dad, who had barely looked at my college acceptance letter but had signed every form when Grandma set up the account because I was a minor. My dad, who told me not to worry about the technical stuff because adults had it handled. My dad, who had spent the last year telling me Tyler was finally “getting serious” because he and his girlfriend wanted to buy a house.
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