“The estate’s security logs confirm the alarm was disarmed with the temporary guest code I gave Portia last week to collect her wedding materials.”
Emerson could hardly breathe.
“Portia.
Tell me this isn’t true.”
“Your mother has hated me from the day we met!”
Rosalind raised a second document.
“I also have an audio recording from last night’s rehearsal dinner, made in the ladies’ room.
Portia told her bridesmaids there were ‘a hundred and twenty million reasons to put up with me for one more day.'”
The figure landed on the room like a dropped dish shattering on marble.
Yvonne stood abruptly.