he lobby. Same thing under the glass roof of the atrium, where palm trees stretched overhead and strange

called was using a burner phone, m

omeone had a copy of her father's last words, and they wanted her to know it. But

re you all ri

look

suit was the sort worn for decades, not just for fashion. His voice was warm, lightly rough, like an old armch

p the feeling

she said

in this building.

. That should've put her on edge, but sitting with

Hart. Benjam

skipped. Y

s was my older brother. I knew your father well. Not as well as

n repeated,

Great man. Nightmarish swing. I once saw

d through her - her father's old notebook, spide

with this man

the first warmth she had felt in months. I came to the funeral, stayed in the

sa

t when

at him. You

always had them in her garden, I remember. He gave her a so

ital gift shop. Someone had been quietly leaving flowers

rs. Thank you, she whi

e. His gaze was steady. Christian mentioned over breakfast you had started at th

ing clien

st in any of this. His smile turned thoughtful. Your father told me once, months before he died, that somethi

yn f

aid

on. His sigh was heavy. If you're really searching, I'd be honored to help. I can open some doors that even m

crawled a private number on the back,

ld you

ore than anyone, and he's holding too much inside. He'll never admit it. Westwoods keep everything and sha

e weight on her chest eased just a little. Here was a man who had known her father,

oved them both. Everyone thinks your father and my brother were rivals - enemies even. Not true.

very article called Thomas Westwo

y. The one on the bookshelf behind his desk. He looked at her

who nodded back, moving with the eas

, thinking about the door she had just been handed. And jus