CLAIRE
"Do you think she was lying?" Julian asked.
I thought about Patricia's face across that table. The coldness in her voice, the certainty. "No," I admitted. "I don't think she was."
Julian walked back over and crouched down in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. "Then we use this," he said. "We find the proof and we make sure everyone knows what kind of man Richard Whitmore really is."
I looked at him, at the intensity in his gray eyes. "What if we can't find proof?" I asked.
"We will," Julian said with absolute certainty. "Men like your father don't make deals without documentation. There's a paper trail somewhere. We just have to find it."
He squeezed my knees gently. "And when we do," he continued, "we're going to make sure he loses everything. Just like he tried to m
