Chapter 2

I didn't go upstairs right away.

Nora was still waiting on the line. I heard her drop her voice, as if afraid someone might overhear: "Mara, I was going to tell you, but Mr. Vale said it was just a routine showing."

"What kind of showing requires clearing out two weekends of weddings?" I asked.

She had no answer.

Seabrook's most profitable days were never regular room stays; they were wedding season.

Those couples booked a year in advance, double-checking everything down to the color of the table candles.

Conrad knew exactly what last-minute cancellations meant. He also knew I would never disappoint our guests for some mysterious "buyer."

Unless he no longer cared whether the inn stayed open at all.

I told Nora to restore the cancelled bookings for now, then walked into the finance office.

Helen, our accountant, was getting ready to head home.

She let out a visible breath of relief when she saw me.

"Pull up the expense logs for the last three months," I said.

She didn't move.

"Mr. Vale changed the system permissions this afternoon," Helen explained quietly. "He said during the rebranding, all accounts have to go through him first. I can't see the full statements in my system anymore."

I stared at the permission prompt on her screen.

I was the one who set up that system—a process Conrad used to complain was too tedious to touch.

Now he was locking me out.

"What else did he say?"

Helen hesitated before speaking. "He said you've been exhausted lately and tend to bring your emotions into work. He told us not to stress you with these things."

Those words stung worse than the key in Ivy's hand.

Conrad had known me for over twenty years.

He knew the last thing I needed was someone else deciding what I could handle.

Yet he was slowly convincing everyone that I was just a woman clinging to old memories, incapable of making decisions.

I didn't press Helen. She had a mortgage and two kids in college; Conrad controlled her job, and she couldn't afford to cross him.

As I left the office, I passed the front desk and noticed a stack of unclaimed scans by the printer.

On top was an old insurance form bearing my signature in the bottom right corner.

I remembered it clearly—it was from a leak three years ago.

I flipped to the next page and saw a copy of my passport.

Sam, the new night clerk, walked over, her face pale. "Mr. Vale had us scan those a few days ago. He said the bank needed to verify some details and that you were aware of it."

"When did he get it?"

"Last week. While you were at that wedding. He took your passport from your desk drawer and asked me to pull a few old contracts with your signature."

I set the papers down, but my fingers stayed clamped onto the edge.

That day, I had been frantically rearranging a rainy-day ceremony for a couple, and Conrad texted saying he’d watch my office for me. I had even texted him back a thank you.

He hadn't been guarding anything for me.

He was cutting himself a key to every locked door I had.

I looked up toward the top of the stairs.

Ivy was sleeping in my mother's room, Conrad had taken my identity documents and signature samples, and the list of cancelled weddings was still growing.

What exactly was he setting me up to sign?