“Come in,” I said without lifting my gaze.
Bennett, my father’s longtime butler, stepped in. His normally composed expression carried a subtle unease. “Miss Veronica,” he began carefully, “there’s something you should see.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What is it?”
He handed me a folder. “The accounting department sent over Mr. Sebastian’s latest credit card statements. There’s… a substantial amount of unusual spending. Do you want me to continue processing them?”
I frowned and flipped open the folder. My eyes scanned the charges—luxury jewelry, designer handbags, high-end resorts, cruise bookings.
All recent. All outrageous.
My throat went dry. “All of these… from this month?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bennett said softly. “Everything was charged to your account. His secondary card is linked to yours.”
The room felt like it was tilting. I set the papers down carefully, forcing myself to stay calm. “I understand,” I murmured, rubbing my temples.
Five years. Five humiliating, wasted years.
I had been blind. Foolish. Believing Sebastian was the man I thought he was. While I managed the business my late father left me, Sebastian had been living a life of indulgence, funded entirely by me, pretending to be a successful entrepreneur.
When his father gave him a small company to oversee, I thought it might give him purpose. But no. He mismanaged, gambled, lied. Each time the company lost money, he came home with the same excuse: “Investors pulled out, love. I just need a little help to keep things afloat.”
And each time, I gave it to him.
He claimed he wanted to make me proud. But all he did was spend my money to impress someone else.
Livia.
I remembered her constant bragging about a mysterious boyfriend. “He’s generous,” she’d say, showing off new handbags, perfumes, and accessories. I had laughed, sometimes envied her, never realizing my money had paid for every one of her luxuries.
How foolish I’d been.
I looked back at Bennett. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “Stop those transactions immediately. Freeze all accounts he can access—credit, debit, every one of them.”
Bennett nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And Bennett,” I added, quieter now, steadier, “any future financial requests from him—deny them. No exceptions.”
“Yes, Miss Veronica.”