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.

I stopped walking.

What do you mean?

Another message arrived.

Not over text. And don’t trust anyone in Aaron’s inner circle.

I read it twice.

For the past six months, Daniel had been one of the few senior people at Prescott Technologies who still treated me with respect.

I had no reason to dismiss him.

And truthfully, Jasmine had made me uneasy long before the incident on the jet.
She was always polite.

Always professional.

But there was something about the way she watched me.

As if she weren’t simply