Fiona
Margaret was waiting for me the moment I walked through the servants' entrance the next morning, her face so pale and tense that I knew immediately something had shifted since I'd left the day before.
"Linda went to Mr. Chester," she said, pulling me quickly into the small pantry, closing the door behind us. "Yesterday afternoon. She brought him an envelope, Fiona. Photographs, financial records, everything her investigator apparently compiled."
My whole body went cold, the careful resolve I'd built the day before, my plan to confess everything myself that evening, suddenly feeling dangerously, catastrophically too late.
"What did he say? Does he know?"
"I don't know exactly what was in that envelope," Margaret said. "But Marcus, the head of security, was asked to pull the CCTV
