Chapter 3 - THE MISTRESS WHO WANTED MY HOUSE
Sloane Voss called me at eleven seventeen.
I recognized her number immediately.
Camden had insisted I save it after she began attending his business dinners.
According to him, she was brilliant.
Ambitious.
Essential to his latest investments.
Apparently, she was also essential to destroying my marriage.
I answered.
"Hello, Sloane."
Her voice was bright.
"Nora! I'm so glad you picked up."
I stared at the wall.
"Are you?"
She laughed.
"I know things are awkward."
"Awkward?"
"With Camden and me."
I glanced at the forged authorization lying on my desk.
"Yes. Bigamy does tend to complicate wedding planning."
She went quiet.
Then laughed again.
"Oh, Nora. You're always so dramatic."
I closed my eyes.
"What do you want?"
"I wanted to talk about Harbor House."
Of course.
She continued.
"Camden says you've always been sentimental about it."
"It's my family's property."
"Exactly. Which is why I thought you'd appreciate our plans."
I leaned back.
"Enlighten me."
She sounded delighted.
"We're going to renovate the east wing. Replace the old furniture. Open up the gardens."
My jaw tightened.
"My grandmother restored those gardens herself."
"I'm sure she did. But times change."
I looked toward Vivian.
She was sitting across from me, silently taking notes.
Sloane continued.
"And honestly, Nora, keeping such a valuable property closed most of the year is financially irresponsible."
I almost smiled.
There it was.
The real reason.
Money.
"How much did your father offer Camden?" I asked.
Silence.
Then Sloane laughed nervously.
"What?"
"Forty-eight million?"
Her breathing changed.
"Nora, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then perhaps you should ask your father."
Another silence.
Then her voice hardened.
"You're making this difficult."
I stared at the phone.
"No, Sloane. I'm making it legal."
She exhaled sharply.
"Camden told me you'd react emotionally."
"Did he?"
"Yes. He said you were incapable of letting go."
I looked toward my grandmother's portrait.
The woman who'd survived a world war, built her own investment firm, and protected her family's estate through three generations.
"I learned from my grandmother," I said.
Sloane scoffed.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm not going to apologize for refusing to let you steal from me."
Her voice became cold.
"You should be careful."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Is that a threat?"
"Just advice."
Then she hung up.
Vivian looked at me.
"That was useful."
I frowned.
"How?"
"She confirmed knowledge of the property negotiations before you mentioned the forged authorization."
I nodded.
Then Rosa knocked.
"Mrs. Reed?"
I turned.
"Yes?"
"There's a man downstairs."
"What man?"
"He says he was your grandmother's private secretary."
My heart skipped.
Grandmother's secretary had retired nearly twenty years earlier.
His name was Arthur Bennett.
He was eighty-three.
And I'd assumed he'd moved to Florida.
"Send him up."
A moment later, Arthur entered carrying a worn leather portfolio.
He looked older.
Thinner.
But his eyes were sharp.
"Nora."
I stood.
"Arthur?"
He smiled sadly.
"Your grandmother told me this day might come."
My stomach tightened.
"What day?"
He opened the portfolio.
Inside was a sealed envelope bearing the Whitcomb crest.
May you like
Then he whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Your grandmother knew the Reed family would eventually try to take Harbor House."
