I married my friend’s wealthy grandfather for his inheritance –

My stomach tightened.

“Then why?”

He turned.

“Because I needed someone I could trust.”

I almost laughed.

Trust?

He had just married a woman who had agreed to marry him largely because of his money.

“I don’t think you understand,” I whispered.

“I understand perfectly.”

He walked to the desk and opened a drawer.

Then he took out an old photograph.

He held it toward me.

I took it.

And everything inside me went cold.

It was a picture of me.

Not a recent picture.

I was maybe seventeen.

I was standing outside my high school, carrying a backpack, looking down at the ground.

Beside me was Chloe.

“How do you have this?”

Arthur’s expression didn’t change.

“I’ve been watching you for years.”

I dropped the photograph onto the table.

“What?”

“Not watching you in the way you’re thinking. I wasn’t following you. I had someone keeping an eye on your circumstances.”

“Why?”

Arthur sighed.

“Because of your father.”

My blood ran cold.

I hadn’t heard that man’s name spoken in years.

“My father is dead.”

“I know.”

“Then what does he have to do with this?”

Arthur sat down.

“Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was.”

I shook my head.