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Fated to My Cruel CEO novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Receipts

I left a note on the pillow.

*Back by ten. Tomorrow starts today. N.*

Florence was waiting on the steps of the Fifth Avenue bank when it opened, with her handbag held in both hands.

"I couldn't wait," she said. "He's been on the phone since five. He knows."

"Knows what?"

"That I didn't come in this morning."

"Then we're fast."

The vault clerk walked us through a steel door and left us alone in a narrow room with a long table.

Florence turned the brass key in box 417.

It slid out.

Inside was a gray banker's box tied with string.

She lifted the lid.

It was full of paper, receipts and carbon copies and deposit slips, all the same cramped handwriting at the bottom, *L.C.*

"Nine years," Florence said. "A thousand and some pages. I counted them once."

I picked up the top sheet.

A church in Sylvania, four hundred dollars.

Below it, in a different color of ink, a matching transfer.

I put it back.

My hands were not steady.

"Come on," I said. "Before anyone sees."

We carried the box between us through the vault door, across the marble floor, toward the front lobby.

It was a quarter to ten.

Three tellers were open, with a short line.

The security guard stood by the revolving door with his hands behind his back.

And my brother was standing in front of it.

Colt had on yesterday's suit.

His eyes were red, and his tie was gone.

"There she is," he said, loud enough for the whole bank to hear. "My sister, the thief."

Heads turned all down the line.

Florence stopped dead.

"Colt," I said. "Move."

"Dad told me what you took from his safe."

He took a step toward us.

"I took back what's mine, and what isn't his."

"Give it to me."

"No."

He lunged.

He caught the end of the box, and Florence let out a small cry and let go.

I held on with both hands.

For a moment we were pulling it between us, nose to nose.

"You ruined my life," he said, spitting the words.

"You ruined it with a casino chip."

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