because he already knew something was wrong.
Maybe because for the first time, nobody had told him exactly what story he was supposed to believe.
My attorney, Elena, was sitting near the fireplace.
Two security guards waited discreetly near the hall.
Beatrice noticed them.He glanced down.
“What is this?”
“Eleven months of payments from my company.”
His eyes moved across the first page.
Vendor name:
B.H. Interiors.
Monthly invoices.
Consultation fees.
Procurement.
Design services.
Material purchases.
Adrian frowned.
“I don’t know this company.”
“I know.”
“What are you
