I stare at my phone screen in disbelief, watching messages I never sent appear in my conversation with Oliver. Someone's been impersonating me, and doing a damned good job of it.
"Miss Sinclair, Mr. James is expecting you in the conference room," his secretary announces, making me jump. I quickly lock my phone and smooth my designer skirt – another reminder of my new life.
"Thank you, Claire. I'll be right there."
The walk down the corridor of James Enterprises feels like traversing a minefield. Every security camera, every passing employee, every reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows makes me question who I can trust. The messages I supposedly sent to Oliver contained intimate details about our private conversations – things only someone close to us would know.
I push open the he
