My mother’s eyes narrowed. “For what services?”
“Brand development. Investor relations. Executive lifestyle advisory.”
My father laughed once.
It was the coldest sound I had ever heard from him.
“She advised him into insolvency,” he said.
Mara tapped the tablet again. A photograph appeared.
Celeste stepping out of a boutique with shopping bags. Adrian’s hand at her back. That black Birkin on her arm.
“The bag?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Mara glanced at the image. “Purchased three days ago using Vale Capital’s corporate card.”
I closed my eyes.
I had been lying in a hospital bed, bringing his sons into the world, while he bought his mistress a trophy with stolen money.
My mother’s hand found mine.
“Evelyn,” she said quietly. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes.
“You are not weak because this hurt you,” she said. “You are only dangerous because you survived it.”
