Chapter 8 - The Return
When I stepped out of the penthouse, the courier was waiting in the lobby. I handed him the blue folder with a pleasant, professional smile.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, rushing off toward his motorcycle.
I walked out onto the street, pulled my coat tightly around my four-month pregnant belly, and called Adrian.
"Hey, Eva," Adrian answered, his voice sounding relieved. "Did you manage to get the folder to the courier?"
"Yes, Adrian," I said, keeping my tone perfectly calm and light. "He just left with it."
"You're a lifesaver, honey. Thank you so much. Listen, I should be done with these meetings by 5:00 PM. Do you want to get dinner tonight? Just the two of us?"
I looked up at the sky. A light rain was beginning to fall over Manhattan.
"Actually, Adrian," I said, "I think we should have dinner at your mother's penthouse tonight."
Adrian paused on the line. "Mom's penthouse? But she's in Washington until Saturday."
"I know," I replied smoothly. "Which means it will be completely quiet. Just you and me. I can cook us something nice in her kitchen, and we can talk without any distractions."
Adrian let out a soft laugh, clearly thrilled that I was showing a willingness to be near his mother's space without friction. "That sounds great, Eva. Really. I'll meet you there at 6:00 PM."
"See you at six, darling."
I hung up the phone. Then I made a second call.
"Mr. Vance?" I said when the managing partner of Marjorie’s law firm answered.
"Mrs. Whitmore?" Vance sounded surprised. "How can I help you?"
"I'm calling on behalf of Marjorie," I said, my voice carrying the crisp, unquestioned authority of someone born into wealth. "She needs you and Dr. Evelyn Shaw to meet Adrian and me at the Manhattan penthouse tonight at 6:30 PM for an emergency trust strategy review before her return from D.C."
Vance hesitated. "Dr. Shaw as well? Is something wrong?"
"Marjorie wants all custody and trust documentation reviewed before the weekend," I said coldly. "Do not be late, Mr. Vance."
"Of course, Mrs. Whitmore. We will be there."
I hung up.
I had forty-five minutes before Adrian arrived.
May you like
I went to a nearby print shop, printed three complete physical copies of every photograph, document, and medical report I had taken from Marjorie’s drawer, and placed them into three neat, black presentation folders.
Then I walked back into the Whitmore penthouse, set the three folders on the dining room table, and sat down to wait.
