Chapter 10: The Voicemails

"What photographs?" I said.

The light of the cooler door hummed behind me.

Alistair looked at his phone and put it face down, and the muscles in his jaw moved once.

"Friday," he said. "I'll tell you everything on Friday. Not tonight."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I can give you without lying."

I studied him for a long time.

He didn't blink, and he didn't look away.

"Friday," I said. "If I don't hear it from you, I'll go find it myself."

"That's fair."

It was the closest he'd come to begging, and I filed it away.

On Tuesday evening the investor from the elevator sent me a card with a gold edge.

HALLAM GROUP INVESTOR APPRECIATION DINNER. HALLAM PAVILION, 7 P.M. YOU ARE MY GUEST.

He had written under it, in blue pen, "Bring something worth hearing."

I knew what I'd bring.

Alistair put his phone in my hand in the car outside the Pavilion.

"Forty-one voicemails," he said. "Your sister, over two years. I never deleted them. I never answered one."

"Why keep them?"

"I'm a man who keeps receipts." He met my eyes. "I'd rather not have to use them. You decide."

I held the phone, which was warm from his pocket, and I thought about my sister's eight-year-old smile.

"I'm deciding."

The Hallam Pavilion was a glass hall on the river, with eighty investors seated at round tables under chandeliers.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Sister Stole My Billionaire Husband from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.