“What do you mean?”
She looked toward the closed door.
Then
she crossed to the dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and removed a stack of old recipe magazines. Beneath them was a flat envelope sealed in plastic.
She handed it to me.
Inside were copies of bank statements, emails, handwritten notes, and photographs. Some showed delivery invoices. Others showed checks. Several were screenshots of messages between Jennifer and someone whose name I didn’t recognize.Set Up Email
At first, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
Then one number caught my eye.
A transfer from one of my holding accounts to a company called Ashford Hospitality Consulting.
I knew that company.
Or rather, I knew I had rejected that company.
Three years earlier, my finance team had warned me that Ashford was overpriced and vague. I had instructed them not to move forward.
But here was a payment.
