My Billionaire Husband Signed Away My Street novel · Chapter 16 of 24

Chapter 16: Hate, Not Quite

His office was on the forty-first floor, at the end of a hall nobody had walked down in two years.

I knew because the carpet still had vacuum stripes in it.

I had taken the key card out of the gray jacket on Tuesday night, from the pocket where he always forgot it.

The night guard at the waterfall saw my face and the card and said, "Evening, Mrs. Bexley," like a man reading a prayer.

The door of the corner office opened with a soft electronic click.

One wall was glass.

Main Street lay under it, wet and orange, and the lake went out beyond it into nothing.

The desk was bare except for a lamp, a jar of yellow carpenter's pencils, and a framed photograph of a man with Amory's jaw standing on a scaffold.

The terminal on the desk woke at my touch.

His password was taped under the keyboard in his own square print.

I thought about that for a second, and then I got to work.

The servicing audit log was thirty-one thousand rows.

I found DHASKELL in forty minutes.

Every alteration had a ticket number, and every ticket number had an approver.

The approver, on all nineteen, was the same two letters.

GP.

I was printing the last page when the door opened behind me.

"The guard called me," Amory said.

"Of course he did."

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