Lucy didn't sleep. She spent the night in her hotel room, staring at the photograph of William and Catherine arguing, the traffic camera footage playing on loop in her mind.
Every instinct screamed that William was innocent. But the evidence was damning. And his refusal to explain where he'd really been that night felt like a betrayal worse than any lie.
At dawn, her phone buzzed. A text from her father: [Come to my room. Now. Alone.]
Lucy found Jackson sitting up in bed, his laptop open, his expression grim.
"I couldn't sleep either," he said. "So I did some digging. Lucy, sit down."
"Dad, what…"
"Just sit." Jackson turned the laptop toward her. "I've been going through old Carson Holdings records. Transactions I never authorized, accounts I never opened. Mirabel was more thorough t
