The band stopped playing without being asked.
Portia forced a mocking laugh.
“Anyone could type that on a piece of paper.
It proves nothing.”
“Which is precisely why,” Rosalind said calmly, “I didn’t come here relying on a piece of paper.”
Chapter 10 — Not Relying on Paper
From a table near the side entrance, Edmund Pemberton — Rosalind’s attorney, gray-haired, cold, in a charcoal suit — rose to his feet.
Beside him stood Edith, her eyes red from weeping.
Portia’s face lost its color.
“Edith saw Portia leaving my private wing at three-twenty this morning,” Rosalind said.