Preston served as CEO. Lorraine oversaw the company’s public relations division.
And fifty-two percent of the business belonged to me.
They referred to me as their “little decorative shareholder.”
What they didn’t know was that I’d worked for eleven years as a forensic accountant before I married Preston.
Earlier that evening, I’d mentioned over dinner that I was catching an early flight to Chicago.
“Business again?” Lorraine asked, rolling her eyes.
“Just a meeting.”
Preston chuckled. “Sweetheart, leave the important decisions to people who understand money.”
I gave him a smile.
“Of course.”
Now, beneath my bedcovers, I heard Lorraine gently shut my suitcase.
A soft metallic click sounded in the bedroom.
Moments later, her footsteps faded into the distance.
I remained still until the corridor became completely quiet.
Then I finally opened my eyes.
My heart pounded fiercely, yet I made no attempt to approach the luggage.
Instead, I picked up my phone.
