“Bennett told me he would handle the investigators, but he blocked my numbers.”

“He froze the credit cards he gave me, Evelyn.”

I walked back toward the living room, leaving the kitchen door behind.

“Sit down, Celeste,” I said, pointing to the armchair near the window.

She followed me slowly, her high heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

She did not sit; instead, she stood by the edge of the Persian rug, holding the envelope tighter.

Julian remained standing near the fireplace, his eyes fixed on her hands.

“What is in the envelope?” Julian asked, his tone neutral and professional.

“It is Bennett’s private ledger,” Celeste said, her fingers tightening on the paper.

“The real one.”

“He kept it in the safe behind the painting in his Greenwich study.”

“I knew the combination because I watched him open it last month when he was drunk.”

She looked at me, her eyes pleading for some sign of sympathy.

“He is going to blame me for the offshore transfers,” she said.

“He set up the accounts in my name using a power of attorney I signed when we first started the hotel project.”