Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Skimming over the charges for the wedding, I looked for something out of the ordinary. Then I frowned.
“What the hell is Crypto Casino?”
There were several charges. Some for hundreds of dollars and others for more. My brows lifted when I spotted one charge for four thousand dollars.
“What is this?” Lowering into his chair, I opened his laptop and typed in What is Crypto Casino?
A spammy looking ad with a spinning slot machine popped up and I quickly exited out of it. “Shit.” I should not be looking such things up on Hale’s work computer.
I put everything back as I found it and left the room. By the time Elara’s movie was over, I was thoroughly out of ideas for a wedding gift and concerned my future husband might have a secret gambling habit.
But that didn’t seem right. Hale liked pragmatic order and dependability. He didn’t indulge in games of chance and often disapproved of senseless investments. My gut told me Hale was not a degenerate.
Or was he? Did he have a problem?
There were several thousand dollars of charges on that bill, all beginning around the same time. Something wasn’t right.
Why would Hale make so many transactions. Even if he wanted to play a few games with the online casinos, he would have done so once and been done with it. It wasn’t his style to feed unhealthy habits. He was too disciplined and controlled to allow such temptations to enslave him.
My stomach started to cramp. I knew Hale. He wasn’t a gambler. No one else, aside from me, had access to his account.
Or did they?
I thought about how many times I swiped that little black card in the last three months. I’d spent a small fortune getting things for the wedding. It was possible the card was hacked. But wouldn’t the company contact us if they suspected suspicious activity?
For charges to get approved, especially with such a high price tag, wouldn’t they require more than just a credit card number. The signer would need the expiration date and secret code on the back—things that were never written out on any sort of statement.
Another wave of cramps hit my stomach. I shifted uncomfortably as Elara banged her sippy cup on the table.
Who had access to the credit card? Seraphina had it on record at the boutique but she would never use her brother’s card for something like that. Would her employees?
The wedding planners all used invoices to get reimbursed and Hale paid them with checks. Who else could have made those charges?
I wouldn’t allow myself to think the thought. I couldn’t. But I did.
My mind went to that time at the steakhouse when I almost forgot my credit card. I’d paid the bill before running to the restroom and I’d only been gone a few minutes, but it was the only time I could recall ever leaving the credit card unsupervised.
“Don’t forget your card,” my dad had said as he rose from his seat. I’d bent down to quickly sign the bill, sliding the card safely back into my wallet.
I didn’t want to think it, but my mind kept replaying that moment. How long had I been in the bathroom? Long enough to text Elle and wash my hands. Long enough for the waiter to run the charge and return the billfold.
He could have looked. He could have written down the numbers or taken a quick picture with his phone.
I opened up our text messages and paused. What could I say?
Dad, did you steal my credit card info and go on an online gambling spending spree?
He wouldn’t do that. Would he?
Of course not. I was obviously missing something. And if I even made the slightest accusation of such untrustworthy behavior it could ruin our fragile relationship. I didn’t want anything to spoil the tenuous bond we’d formed over the past few weeks, especially so close to the wedding.
Oh God, what if my father was a total degenerate? Not only that, but what if he was the kind of man to steal from his own kid?
I thought back to how he mentioned the wedding being held in New York before I shared such details. Or was I misremembering? I still couldn’t recall mentioning the destination in any of our prior messages, but I needed to check to make sure, so I went back to our earliest communication thread on Facebook, scanning every word for any mention of New York.
“Come on,” I whispered, searching frantically.
I told him we were getting married in April and that I would pay for him to attend, but I never mentioned the location. Looking away from my phone in disgust, my gaze fell upon the magazine sitting on the coffee table. The headline read, A Wedding Suited For American Royalty.
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I looked at the date the article published. It came out a few days before my dad responded to my private message. A response that came after weeks of silence.