Two days later, while they were enjoying yet another meal prepared by Venus, Malcolm reminded her of one of the items on her to-do list she kept putting off.
“I need the name of your foster mother’s bank and her account number. I had meant to wire her some funds but got distracted with business. But I don’t want to delay any longer.”
At his sudden switch in their conversation, Venus choked on the excellent glass of white wine she’d been sipping on. “W-w-what?” she stuttered. Hoping she hadn’t heard him correctly, as ungrateful as that made her sound.
“Venus,” Malcolm began patiently, “we’ve had this conversation before. I would like to send your foster mother some money to help with her expenses or to spend however way she feels fit, as a thank you for raising you. So I’ll need her ac
