Richard reached down and picked it up, looking at the caller ID.

His brow furrowed, and he met my eyes with a look of quiet concern.

“It’s the security gate at the front of the property,” Richard said.

He pressed the speaker button, and the voice of his head of security filled the room.

“Mr. Bennett,” the security guard said, his voice tense. “We have a vehicle at the gate.”

“Who is it?” Richard asked.

“It’s Margaret Whitmore,” the guard replied. “She says she knows Mr. Vale is here.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I looked at Vale.

The color had completely drained from his face, leaving him a sickly shade of gray.

“She knows,” Vale whispered, his hands trembling on the edge of the mahogany desk.

“Of course she knows,” Nora said, her voice remaining perfectly steady.

“She keeps you on a very short leash, Thomas.”

Richard looked down at the vibrating speakerphone.

“Hold her at the gate, Marcus,” Richard told the guard.

“Tell her I am in a meeting and cannot be disturbed under any circumstances.”

“Understood, Mr. Bennett,” Marcus replied.