Chapter 8 - The Aftermath and the Audit
The house was quiet again.
The screen of my phone lit up with a final text from my father—“You’ve gone too far this time, Andrea. Don't call us.”—before I turned the phone on silent and laid it face down on the kitchen island.
Neil reached across the counter, took my hand, and squeezed it gently. His palm was warm and steady.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"I'm better than okay," I whispered, feeling a profound, breathtaking sense of lightness wash over me. For the first time in my adult life, the invisible strings that had tied me to my family’s dysfunction had been cleanly severed. There was grief, yes—mourning the family I wished I had—but beneath it was an overwhelming, liberating sense of peace.
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"So," Neil said, a slight, wicked smile touching the corner of his mouth. "What do we do with sixteen hundred and fifty-one dollars and twenty-six cents?"
I smiled back, the tension completely melting out of my shoulders. "First thing tomorrow morning? We’re taking Hannah to the bank. She’s going to open a real, insured savings account in her own name. And then, we’re going to the bike shop."
