Three days after David's desperate phone call, an envelope arrived at Sterling Estate.
It was hand-delivered, not mailed. Heavy cream paper with my name written across the front in handwriting I recognized immediately. David's handwriting. The same sharp, angular script that had scrawled "Useful if she ever gets too difficult" in the corner of my DNA report.
Anna brought it to me in the library, where I was reading through the latest files Arthur's legal team had compiled. The district attorney was moving forward. Charges were being prepared. Everything was in motion.
"This just came for you, miss." She held the envelope like it might bite her. "The courier said it was from Mr. Miller personally."
I tore it open. Inside was a single card, also cream, also heavy. The kind of stationery
