Household expenses
inflated beyond reason.
Vehicle purchases categorized as security upgrades.
Payroll entries for staff I had never met.
And then there were emails.
Some were from my accounts.
Or seemed to be.
Messages authorizing Margaret to make decisions regarding Emma’s “condition.” Messages telling staff not to burden me with domestic concerns. Messages instructing Samuel Reed’s office to communicate through my mother while I was traveling.
I knew immediately I hadn’t written them.
But they were written well enough to fool someone who didn’t know the rhythm of my thoughts.
That unsettled me most.
Someone hadn’t just stolen my authority.
They had studied my voice.
At eight in the morning, Samuel Reed arrived at the hotel instead of the mansion.
He looked older than when I had last seen him. His hair had gone almost completely silver, and there were deep lines around his eyes.
