and carrying a folder.
“You must be Lucas,” he said pleasantly.
“Who are you?”
“Tyler Morgan. Khloe asked me to stop by.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
“What do you want?”
“To clear up this misunderstanding.”
He opened his folder and produced several glossy documents describing Art Connect as an innovative new company.
He spoke confidently about investors, expansion plans, and projected profits.
I listened without interrupting.
Then I asked, “Where is the seventy-two thousand dollars?”
He smiled.
“Invested in development.”
“What development?”
“Our platform. Marketing. Partnerships.”
“Can you show me the actual expenses?”
His expression changed slightly.
“Khloe mentioned you’re skeptical.”
“I’m not skeptical about legitimate expenses. I’m asking where my money went.”
Before he could answer, Dad entered the room.
“Who’s this?”
“Tyler Morgan,” the man replied smoothly. “Khloe’s business partner.”
Dad studied him.
“Just her business partner?”
Tyler gave an uncomfortable little laugh.
At that moment, a
