Chapter 4
Mr. Reynolds recovered first.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “No one wants you signing while unwell.”
Jasper grabbed my arm as we walked out.
His fingers pressed into the soft skin above my elbow.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he whispered.
For once, I did not apologize.
Outside, a cold drizzle had begun.
Jasper put me into a taxi and leaned through the open door.
“Go home,” he said. “Rest. I’ll fix this.”
He always said that.
I’ll fix this.
What he meant was, I’ll fix you back into place.
The taxi pulled away. Jasper stood on the curb watching until the building disappeared behind us.
Then I leaned forward.
“Change of address,” I told the driver. “Central Market.”
Twenty minutes later, I was inside a stationery shop owned by an old college friend named Lena. She took one look at my face and locked the front door without asking questions.
“There’s a computer in the back,” she said.
The room was cramped, dim, and smelled of printer ink.
I plugged in the USB.
Folders appeared on the screen.
Bank records.
Contracts.
Audio files.
Scanned signatures.
Then I saw a video file labeled with my mother’s name.
And the date was three days after her funeral.
My hand froze over the mouse.
From the hallway outside, the back door handle rattled.
Once.
Then again.
A soft voice came through the wood.
“Camille?”
Jasper.
My blood turned cold.
“Open the door.”
I gripped the USB so tightly it bit into my palm.
May you like
For the first time in my marriage, I answered without fear.
“Not this time.”
