“Has your husband ever threatened you?” he asked.
“Not directly. He prefers financial threats.”
I showed him the message Preston had sent two days earlier: Sign the settlement agreement, Harper. Otherwise, things could get very ugly.
That agreement would have forced me to sell most of my shares to Preston for a fraction of their worth. I had refused.
Ortega looked up. “They want you desperate enough to sign.”
“That’s what I think too.”
“Then we make sure this attempt is documented properly.”
By 4:30, the officers had left with the gun and the footage. I’d given a formal statement and kept copies of everything. I changed into a cream-colored pantsuit, packed a fresh bag, and got ready for my flight.
At 5:15, Preston wandered into the kitchen, looking oddly cheerful.
“Big day, sweetheart?”
“Very big.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Still planning to fight me over the company?”
I met his eyes. “Are you worried?”
He chuckled. “I’m worried you’ll embarrass yourself.”
Lorraine swept in wearing her pearls and an expression of staged concern.
“Harper, darling, are you sure you packed everything?”
“Everything I need.”
