I thought about the money my mother had left me before she died. It wasn’t a fortune, but it represented forty-two years of her hard work. She had saved it little by little, working extra shifts and refusing to spend money on things she didn’t need.
When she gave it to me, she had held my hands and said, “Never let anyone convince you that love means giving up your right to protect yourself.”
At the time, I thought she was simply offering motherly advice.
Now her words felt like a warning I had failed to understand.
The next morning, I called Rachel Morgan.
Rachel had worked as Sean’s executive assistant for six years. We weren’t close friends, but we had always been polite to one another. She had left his company several months earlier after what Sean described as a disagreement over office procedures.
I remembered how uncomfortable she had looked the last time I saw her.
