“Because he did.”
I nodded.
“Yes. I did.”
Then I picked up the remote and turned on the television screen.
The banking app appeared.
A long list of transactions filled the display.
Luxury purchases.
Transfers.
Accounts opened without my approval.
The room fell silent.
“This,” I said quietly, “is my money.”
I paused before continuing.
“And you treated it like your personal account.”