Relief came unexpectedly.
Daniel had been taken from us by illness, not conspiracy.
The truth was still painful.
But it was clean.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Dad knew about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Victor showed me an old letter.”
My heart tightened.
“What letter?”
“Dad wrote it six months before he d/i/ed. He found out I had been taking money from the farm payroll account.”
I remembered the missing funds.
Daniel told me it had been an accounting error.
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
I stared at him.
“You stole from us while your father was d/y/ing?”
“I planned to repay it.”
“You always plan to repay it.”
“He confronted me.”
“And?”
“He told me he wouldn’t tell you if I returned the money and worked at the farm for one year.”
“You never came.”
“I returned part of it. Then I left.”
A memory surfaced.
