“Oh, please. You love what she represents. There’s a difference.”
I felt sick.
Lorna continued.
“How long are you planning to keep this up?”
“Six months, maybe less. Long enough to make everything look legitimate. Then we’ll say the marriage isn’t working. I’ll explain that I paid for the apartment and show the purchase records. She’ll have to negotiate with me if she wants to keep it.”
“But it’s in her name.”
“That’s the point. She’ll think I’m being generous by putting it in her name, and she won’t ask too many questions. Once we’re separated, I’ll have the records ready. I’ll claim I only did it for convenience and that the money was always mine.”
Lorna gave a satisfied hum.
“And the receipts?”
“I kept every one.”
I stared at the underside of the bed.
The apartment had been our wedding present to ourselves. It overlooked the sea, with pale stone floors, enormous windows, and a little balcony where Grayson promised we’d drink coffee every Sunday morning.
