Vincent waved it off. “You’re overthinking it,” he said. “There are things I handle that you don’t need to worry about.” He smiled, like he was protecting her from something unpleasant. She reminded him that she did worry. That was her job. That was how they’d built this together—by knowing exactly where the money went, and why.
He bristled at that. Said she was monitoring him. Said it wasn’t healthy. “This is more than we need,” she said once, standing in the doorway of his office. “And it’s coming from accounts I manage. I have a right to know where it’s going.” He bristled immediately. Said she was overstepping. Said not everything needed her approval. She didn’t back down.