Chapter 48

Cassandra sat rigidly across from SM, blinking as the afternoon light slanted through the wide, polished windowpanes and painted gold flecks across the mahogany desk. In that moment, a vivid memory startled her: the night David had driven her home. She’d almost forgotten how her husband had come storming out of the house, demanding—nearly shouting—David’s full name, his address, his motives. Back then, Cassandra had brushed it off. She’d assumed, absurdly, that her husband’s ire sprang from jealousy over a man, that he thought David gay. She’d believed her naïve interpretation until now. Now she wondered if there had been a flicker of true jealousy in his eyes. Or perhaps something darker. Cassandra shook her head, dispelling the old excuses she’d clung to so long. She could no longer excuse her husband’s behavior; the sins he had piled against her—and against honor itself—were too many to forgive.

Her revery broke in an instant when the door swung open and Gwen Vance breezed