Chapter 5

My boots hit the plush carpet of the hallway, but I didn't feel the softness beneath my feet. I only felt the hard, cold weight of the phone in my jacket pocket. The recording was safe. The truth was finally in my hands. As I neared the heavy oak doors of Graham's private study, the suffocating scent of Cuban cigars and bitter black coffee seeped through the wood. It was his signature scent, a bitter wall he deliberately built to numb his senses and block out my natural floral aroma.

I didn't bother to knock. I grabbed the brass handle…