I gave him the picture of Robert Harrison I’d printed from a society page.
“Give me a week,” Mark said. “If he has secrets, I’ll find them. Men like this… when they cheat in one area of life, they usually cheat in all of them.”
That week was torture. Michael was busy with wedding plans, showing me flower arrangements and playlists. “We’re going to dance to Elvis,” he told me, his eyes shining. “Just you and me, Mom.”
I smiled and nodded, but inside, I was dying.
On Friday, Mark called. “Come to the office. Now.”
When I arrived, Mark didn’t offer me coffee. He turned his computer monitor toward me. “Robert Harrison has two families.”
The air left my lungs. On the screen were high-resolution photos. Robert entering a suburban apartment. Robert kissing the blonde woman in a supermarket parking lot. Robert picking up the children from a private school.
“Her name is Jessica Miller,” Mark said. “Thirty-two years old. Former accountant at Harrison & Associates. The kids are seven and five. Harrison pays for the apartment, the school, the car. Everything.”
“With what money?” I whispered.
Mark looked at me, his expression grim. “That’s the other thing. He’s embezzling it. From his own company.”
