Seven months after our divorce, I rushed into St. Jude’s Children’s and Women’s Hospital, still angry at my ex-wife, only to learn that she had just given birth to twin boys, and both of them were mine. Before the night was over, a nurse would place a brass key in my hand and tell me to use it before my own family arrived. And what was waiting for me beyond that was even more shocking.

My first instinct was to say that I didn’t trust anyone in my life anymore.

Then I suddenly thought of my assistant, Marcus Vance.

I thought about his years of loyal service, his unlimited access to corporate files, and how noticeably absent he had been from every important conversation during my divorce.

“Do you trust Marcus Vance?” I asked Sylvia directly.

Sylvia’s expression darkened at once.

“Absolutely not,” she answered firmly.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because Marcus was the one who personally handed over the first set of falsified documents accusing me of treason,” she revealed smoothly.