I stood in the huge living room, folder in hand, pulse hammering. From the other room came the sound of glasses clinking and voices rising, warm and fake. Attached to the contract there were a few pages with names, addresses, photos, maps and account numbers. A dossier on Vikram’s business.
Somewhere between the lines was the reason I’d come this far—the tuition, the chance at normal life, the quiet smile on Dylan’s face when he’d found out he could register for next semester.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and sat down to study. It was the life of a crook, trying to hide his dealings, not different from Daniel. He owned businesses, hotels, offshore accounts. Even a second home in town. Bought recently. Overlooking the ocean.
Why would that man have a second house in the s
