I was in the dining room of the matriarch's home. She was in a floral silk caftan, her eyes sharp as a hawk's as she stared at the morning headlines scattered across the mahogany.
"I knew that Deveraux girl was cruel," Beatrice tutted, spearheading a piece of smoked salmon. "But this? To forge a debt ledger just to tarnish the Reyes name? It's unimaginative, really. Low-class spite."
Adrian and I shared a look. The air in the room suddenly felt very thin. Adrian's fork paused halfway to his mouth, and he looked at me, a silent question in his gray eyes. Do we tell her?
I took a deep breath. I couldn't lie, not to the woman who was currently treating me like the granddaughter she had always wanted.
"Beatrice," I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. "It's not.….it's not fake. The debts are real."
