I swallowed.
“Mrs. Harlow, I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“Nobody is ready to stop bleeding,” she said. “One simply decides not to die from the wound.”
She took my suitcase from my hand as if it weighed nothing.
Then she turned to Mrs. Martha.
“Pack anything of sentimental value belonging to Miss Vance. Nothing purchased by Mr. Cross. Nothing he can claim. You have ten minutes.”
Mrs. Martha straightened at once.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I almost smiled.
For years, this house had revolved around Julian’s moods. Yet Evelyn Harlow had entered it for less than a minute and already changed its gravity.
While Mrs. Martha hurried upstairs, Evelyn handed me a tablet.
“Review this.”
On the screen was a live financial dashboard.
CrossTech Holdings.
Julian’s company.
I recognized the name, of course. Everyone in Ohio’s business circles did. Julian had built his reputation as a visionary CEO, a self-made man who had taken a struggling logistics software company and turned it into a rising empire.
