Boston Mother Cancels Twenty Two Million Dollar Wedding Gift After Morning Betrayal
“Michael signed for his card two years ago,” I said, reading the neat, looped script at the bottom of the page. “And he signed for Victoria’s card three weeks before the wedding. He told me she needed access for the florists.”
“She had the card,” Vance said. “The question is how her brother obtained it.”
“He did not obtain it without her knowledge,” I said.
I looked at the silver hair wig on its stand. The synthetic fibers glinted in the gray morning light, looking exactly like my own hair before Saturday morning.
“She wanted me to stay in this house,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “She wanted me to hide.”
“Do you want me to forward this file to the police department?” Vance asked, his hand hovering over his briefcase. “This is a felony entry.”
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
“The footage is secure on my server,” Vance said, standing up and buttoning his coat. “Nobody else has access to these files. But you should change the master codes today.”
“I will change everything,” I said.
