I took out my phone.
I STARTED RECORDING
My hand trembled.
But I pressed record.
Held the phone low.
And waited.
Adrian continued:
“When the transfer goes through, she’s finished.”
Celeste smiled.
“No money?”
“No accounts.”
“No access.”
He sounded almost amused.
“I file immediately afterward.”
Celeste asked:
“And the house?”
Adrian gave her a smug smile.
“Already handled.”
My vision blurred.
The house.
Not his house.
Mine.
I had purchased it before I ever met Adrian.
Later, I refinanced it because I believed in his business.
My father had helped restore the place with his own hands before he died.
Every railing.
The stonework.
The old oak floors.
And Adrian was standing in Bellmere International Airport discussing it as though it were a piece of luggage he planned to steal.
I kept recording.
Celeste slipped an arm around his waist.
“Then let’s ruin her.”
Adrian’s phone vibrated.
