James’s office occupied half of a discreet floor in Midtown, all clean lines and floor to ceiling glass, the kind of room where serious things happened quietly.
Olivia arrived ten minutes after Claire, nervous and pale, twisting the strap of her bag into a knot. Nathaniel was already there, standing at the window with his back to the room, and he turned when they came in with an expression Claire had learned to r******w, controlled but barely.
“Sit down,” he said quietly. “Both of you.”
He waited until they were settled before he spoke.
“My father told me this morning that two years before our wedding, he was approached by a man named Carter Webb. A private investigator, working independently. This man had compiled detailed files on both Bennett daughters. He said he had been hired to
