For two years, my husband never once took me to a reunion with his closest friends. He always brought his childhood sweetheart instead. But when he left me home on the night of his best friend’s wedding, I discovered something worse than their intimate photographs—Sophia was wearing the heirloom bracelet Vincent’s grandmother had given me before she died.

Sophia insisted she had never visited Rosewood before.

Arthur did not believe her.

Neither did I.

When we returned to the main sitting room, he ordered everyone to remain while his attorney reviewed the ledger. Vincent paced near the fireplace, repeatedly checking his phone.

Sophia sat beside him.

For once, she did not reach for his hand.

"Tell us about your mother," I said.

She looked up sharply.

"What does she have to do with this?"

"Eleanor mentioned a winter night at Rosewood. You recognized the reference."

"I didn't."

"Then explain why you look frightened."

Vincent interrupted.

"Claire, you're not interrogating her."

"No, Vincent. I'm asking questions that you should have asked two years ago."

Arthur nodded toward Sophia.

"Answer her."

Sophia swallowed.

"My mother worked for Eleanor before I was born. She helped organize charity events and managed some of the estate's private records."

Arthur frowned.

"I remember a woman named Rebecca Carter. She disappeared after a financial investigation."

Sophia's face changed.

"That was my mother."

The attorney looked up from the ledger.

"Rebecca Carter was investigated for missing funds."

"She never stole anything," Sophia said quickly. "She was blamed because she found records that someone wanted destroyed."

Arthur's expression became grave.

"Who blamed her?"

Sophia looked at Vincent.

He stared at the floor.

I felt a chill.

"Vincent knew?" I asked.

He did not answer.

Sophia began speaking rapidly.

"My mother told me that Eleanor had discovered someone was moving money through the charity foundation. She said the person wanted to use the Rosewood trust to hide the transfers. When my mother tried to report it, she was accused of stealing."

"Who was responsible?" Arthur asked.

"My mother never told me the name. She only said it was someone Eleanor trusted."

The attorney turned several pages in the ledger.

"These transfers began eight years ago. They were approved through a private authorization account."

Arthur leaned forward.

"Whose account?"

The attorney hesitated.

"Vincent's."

Vincent went still.

"That's impossible."

The attorney placed the documents on the table.

"Your signature appears on every authorization."