Dust the library.
Don’t wait up.
And then the laugh: “You’re getting huge, Ev. Like a whale.”
Seven months pregnant, and he had never once placed a hand on her belly with tenderness.
Her phone buzzed again.
ALICE: Added forgery file. Federal coordination ready.
Evelyn called Benedict Shaw, CEO of the discreet London bank that managed most of her father’s architecture.
“Kill the leak,” she said.
“It will disappear,” he replied.
“Add the forged loan to the packet. Everything.”
“Already done.”
She let the silence hold a second. “How does the room look?”
“Full,” Benedict said. “Hungry. Perfect.”
“Any sign Gavin suspects?”
“None.”
Of course not.
Men like Gavin rarely imagine plans they did not author themselves.
After that she called her friend Naomi Brooks.
“Tell me you’re not backing out,” Naomi said before Evelyn could speak.
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“But I need you there.”
“I’m already on my way,” Naomi said.
Evelyn laughed softly.
“And Evelyn,” Naomi added, voice gentler now, “you’re allowed to be scared.”
“I am scared.”
“That’s fine. Brave women are scared all the time. Cowards are just louder.”
After she hung up, Evelyn reached for the dress.