When I boarded my husband’s private jet, his secretary was sitting beside him in my usual seat, feeding him peeled oranges while his mother told me to be considerate. I didn’t argue.

the company was entirely his.

Dad slid another item across the desk.

A photograph.

It had been taken outside a building in Zurich three days earlier.

Jasmine was standing beside a man I recognized immediately.

Aaron’s former business partner.

The man who had left Prescott Technologies after a vicious dispute.

I turned the photograph over.

There was a handwritten note.

She didn’t come for Aaron.

I looked up.

“What does that mean?”

Dad leaned back.

“She’s been investigating you.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Then his expression changed.

“But we