I took Liam and moved to France.
The apartment Jordan arranged for us was on the Left Bank of the Seine. From the window, we could see the towering spires of Notre-Dame Cathedral rising above the city skyline.
Liam rested his head on my lap, stumbling through the French phrases he had just learned as he shyly asked an elderly baker for a croissant.
Jordan handed me a folder.
"The gallery's exhibition plan," he said. "You'll be in charge of the Asian art division."
I opened it and immediately recognized several familiar artists' names.
In my previous life, the value of many of their paintings had soared after my death.
Thomas had relied on the market forecasts and research notes I left behind to make a fortune.
"You trust me with something this important?" I asked, looking up.
"I a
