I took a tiny sip and caught a strange, slightly bitter undertone. I couldn’t prove anything right then, but after months of noticing suspicious wire transfers, fabricated business trips, and phone calls that ended the second I entered the room, I had learned a crucial lesson: when a piece of the puzzle doesn’t fit, you don’t force it. You watch.
I waited for Daniel to head back downstairs, then poured the tea down the bathroom sink and climbed back into bed.
Forty minutes later, I heard his footsteps. I kept my eyes closed and breathed slowly, evenly. Daniel stood beside the bed for several long seconds before walking into the walk in closet.
I heard the quiet electronic beep of our safe.
Squinting through my eyelashes, I watched him pull out two passports, stacks of cash, three velvet jewelry boxes, and a blue folder bearing the logo of Sterling Global, my company. Or, more accurately, the firm my mother had spent thirty one years building before leaving me controlling interest.
