“Rowan,” she said softly. “You’re letting guilt confuse you.”
“Maybe.”
“Your mother said this might happen.”
There it was.
I kept my face still. “My mother?”
“She knows you. She knows Megan has a way of making people feel responsible for her choices.”
I thought of Megan at the motel, two babies in her arms and a missing daughter’s name held behind her teeth like a prayer.
“I’m going upstairs,” I said.
Claire watched me for a long second. “The wedding planner comes tomorrow at eleven.”
“I’ll be there.”
She smiled.
It was almost perfect.
Upstairs, I locked myself in my study and opened the envelope again. I read every page twice, photographing each document and uploading copies to a secure drive Claire did not know existed. Then I called the only lawyer I trusted outside my company—a quiet woman named Priya Sen who had once dismantled a fraudulent acquisition with nothing but patience and a yellow legal pad.
