Chapter 5: When It's Paid

Neither of us said anything.

His eyes went from my face to the envelope in my hand.

Then they went cold in a way I had never seen, even at the gala.

"Put it down," he said.

"It's mine."

"Put it down, Genevieve."

"It has my name on it. In his handwriting."

He came into the room.

He didn't hurry.

He never hurried.

"It also says when," he said. "Read the rest."

"When it's paid. When what's paid?"

He held out his hand.

I put the envelope behind my back like I was nine years old again.

"You locked my father's letter in a drawer," I said.

"You took his company, and his house, and his chair. And you kept this from me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he asked me to."

"He's not here to ask you anything."

"No," Kendrick said. "He's not. So I'm doing what he said."

He was close now.

Close enough that I could see a white line of scar through his left eyebrow I'd never noticed.

Close enough to smell soap and woodsmoke on his shirt.

He'd come from the carriage house in the dark, barefoot over wet grass.

He had known I was here.

"How did you know?" I said.

"The kitchen door logs the code. My phone pings."

"Since when?"

"Since Saturday."

He'd been waiting for me.

That made me angrier than anything else.

"Who's Harborline Capital?" I said.

Something moved in his jaw.

"You went through my files."

"Two point six million dollars, Kendrick. Since July. Out of your personal account."

"That's my money."

"Who did you pay? The lawyer? Chloe? Rosemary?"