I took out my phone and called Victoria.
She answered before the second ring.
“Adrian.”
Her voice was steady. Too steady.
“Where are you?”
“At the office.”
“With my letters.”
There was a pause.
“I assumed Marcus would tell you.”
“You opened them.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you were about to make a decision that could change several lives, and I wanted to know what information you had been denied.”
I almost laughed, but there was nothing amusing in the sentence.
“You mean what information you denied me.”
Her silence was answer enough.
Evelyn turned away, one hand pressed against the counter.
“Did you intercept Evelyn’s letters?” I asked.
“I did not intercept all of them.”
“Which ones?”
“The first letter came to my office before the divorce was final. You were in a meeting with the D’Alessandro group. I read it because it was marked personal and urgent.”
