Three weeks after Chloe’s birthday, Arthur was murdered.
And I became the only suspect anyone seemed interested in investigating.
I still remember the night everything happened.
Arthur had called shortly after eight o’clock.
His voice sounded unusually tense.
“Elena, I need you to bring the copies of the invoices we reviewed yesterday.”
I was surprised because Arthur rarely discussed work after office hours.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No.”
He paused.
“There’s something wrong with these contracts, and I think someone knows I’ve discovered it.”
I asked whether he was safe.
He hesitated.
“Just bring the documents.”
I arranged for my sister, Leah, to stay with Chloe and drove to Arthur’s house.
When I arrived, the front door was partly open.
That should have frightened me.
Instead, I assumed Arthur had left it that way because he was expecting me.
I stepped into the hallway and called his name.
There was no answer.
