At 10:00 a.m., he contacted the shipyard’s executive team and announced that he would be temporarily managing my affairs.
He even wore the watch I had given him on our second anniversary.
I watched the footage from a secure room, my stomach twisting.
“He’s not even pretending to grieve,” I said.
“He’s pretending exactly enough,” Agent Brooks replied. “He knows how to perform for an audience.”
Then she showed me a second video.
It had been recorded inside a private office at the shipyard three weeks earlier.
Garrett stood with Penelope and a man I recognized from company photographs: Martin Hale, the chief financial officer.
Hale placed a folder on the desk.
“The transfers are complete,” he said. “But once Rosalind dies, the trustees may ask why the company has so little cash.”
Garrett answered calmly.
“By then, we’ll have the voting shares, and the auditors will be working for us.”
