Chapter 17 - Seventy-Two Hours

The letter sounded terrifying until Sarah walked me through it line by line. A demand was not a court ruling. Assertions were not proof. Grant could threaten claims, but he still had to support them.

“Do not pay him to make this go away,” Sarah said. “We will respond through appropriate channels.”

She drafted a factual reply denying that I had authorized the sponsorship materials, describing the charter cancellation under the written contract, and requesting preservation of relevant records. She attached nothing she didn't need to attach. She made no grand accusations she couldn't prove.

I watched her work and felt something unexpected: relief that I didn't have to outshout a bully to protect myself.

On Sunday, Mom invited me to dinner. “Just family,” she said. “No Grant.”

I nearly refused, but Dad added a separate message: I owe you a conversation. No money requests.

I went, prepared to leave if the evening turned into another ambush.

The table was set for four. Vanessa had cooked pasta. Dad poured water and sat down, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles shone.

“I treated you like an emergency fund,” he said before anybody touched a fork. “I thought because you were steady, you didn't need anything from us. I was wrong.”

I looked at the man who had taught me to ride a bike and then, years later, asked me to carry problems he wouldn't examine himself.

“Thank you,” I said. “I needed to hear that.”

Mom hesitated. “I thought you could afford the yacht.”

“Affording something and agreeing to give it away are different things.”

She nodded, tears gathering. “I know that now.”

Vanessa reached into her purse. “I sold the diamond earrings Grant gave me,” she said. “And some designer bags. It's not everything. But I want to repay the cancellation loss.”

She slid a check toward me. Three thousand dollars.

I didn't touch it immediately. It wasn't enough to erase what happened, but it was the first time she'd offered money back without being asked.

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Then Dad's phone rang. Dana Cho was calling on a Sunday evening.

He answered, listened, and whispered, “You're sure?”