“No,” Graham said. “You don’t. A thief steals when no one is looking. A predator builds a world where only her version of reality exists. Deborah didn’t just take money. She rewrote your life.”
That sentence stayed with Harrison as he returned home and found Deborah waiting with contracts spread across the dining table.
“There you are,” she said. “I was getting worried.”
“I stopped by the office.”
Her gaze flickered. “You should have told me. I would’ve gone with you.”
“It was quick.”
She tapped the papers. “Good timing. These need your signature.”
Harrison picked up the top contract. Vance Logistics LLC. Materials supply. Four hundred eighty-seven thousand dollars. A P.O. box in Delaware. No warehouse address. No corporate history older than six months.
“New supplier?” he asked.
“Excellent references,” Deborah said smoothly.
“Did you visit them?”
“Last week.”
Harrison looked up. “Last week?”
“Yes.”
He remembered last week clearly. Deborah had spent every day in his apartment, claiming he should not be alone near the anniversary of Julian’s death.
