She had been a costume, worn by a person who had been reading his trust like a map to a vault since before he’d bought her a second dinner.

Chapter 16 — Forgiveness Doesn’t Require Access

Beyond the gates, sirens.

I had not called my son downstairs merely to let him hear her cruelty.

I had called him down to watch her entire plan come apart in a single afternoon, in the open, where he could never again talk himself into doubting what he’d seen.

Two financial-crimes investigators came in with Quentin and a uniformed officer.

Sabine backed against the staircase, gripping the banister, and tried the word misunderstanding — a family misunderstanding, she said, that was all this was.

It was not.

Quentin opened his folder and named the things plainly: attempted wire fraud, forged authorizations, conspiracy.

She had copied Gabriel’s signature onto vendor approvals.