Page 47 of Corrupted Empire

I drop a hand to my belly and stroke it absently. Gabriel’s eyes track the movement, and he sits up stiffly, brow creased.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“It’s fine,” I reply with a light chuckle. “You don’t have to freak out every time I touch my belly.”

Gabriel frowns at me across the table, but I can see he’s suppressing a smile. Harry, distressed at having his father’s attention diverted, starts to chatter on about the cookies he and Clara made. Gabriel turns and joins the conversation with enthusiasm.

I watch them for a while, happy just to see them interacting, without needing to be a part of it. I note their matching dimpled grins and the way Gabriel’s eyes light up at the sound of Harry’s laugh.

We’re going to be okay, I realize. More than okay. We’re a family again. And this time, I won’t let anything change that.

* * *

My receptionist, Laura, buzzes my phone just as the sun is beginning to set, painting the skyline in swathes of cobalt blue.

“Ms. Wright,” she says. “Debbie Harris here to see you.”

Crikey. I nearly forgot about the interview. I reach over and press the buzzer.

“Let her in,” I say, heart picking up. I try to calm it. There’s nothing to be worried about. It’s just Debbie, after all. Our respective roles have changed dramatically since I handed in my last assignment two weeks ago, but it’s still just Debbie.

My former boss waltzes through the door a moment later, looking resplendent in a deep raspberry pantsuit. Possibly one of her finest. Her blonde hair is perfectly coiffed around her cheeks, and her eyes are lined in ink black. She purses her magenta-colored lips when I stand to greet her, evaluating the office.

“He’s got you as his trained pet now,” she observes.

My smile wavers only a little. “Please, sit.” I wave a hand at the chair opposite my desk and sit back down myself.

“In regards to your comment,” I say, brushing my hair back. “I am nobody’s trained pet.”

Debbie pulls out a pad and a pen. “Sure thing, hen.”

I rankle at her obvious contempt, but Debbie has never liked Gabriel. Considering that her brushes with organized crime have produced threats against her daughter’s life, I suppose I can’t blame her.

“Thank you for agreeing to this interview,” she says quite formally. “It’s very difficult to arrange one with your man, and I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

I smile. “No, thankyou. It’s been a whirlwind two weeks since I took over the charity wing of the company, and there are a lot of exciting projects in the pipeline that I can’t wait to tell the world about.”

“Yes, well, let’s start with Gabriel’s murder investigation,” Debbie says matter-of-factly in her Scottish drawl. “Everyone seems to have gotten over it quite quickly, but I for one want to know more about why the investigation has stalled. Can you comment?”

Her eyes lock onto mine, shining with accusation. Debbie Harris is no fool. She knows something had to have gone on behind the scenes. Something potentially nefarious. But I won’t ever admit it.

I smile coolly. “I’m afraid I know just about as much as you, Debbie.” I shrug. “As I understand it, this sort of thing happens all the time, it’s just that Gabriel’s is quite a high-profile case, so it got more attention.”

“I don’t get it, though,” Debbie presses. “Somebody wanted to put Gabriel away. And then they didn’t.”

“What are you implying, Debbie?” I laugh dismissively. “You know me. I wouldn’t be involved if I thought Gabriel was hurting people to stay out of jail.”

“I’m convinced I know you less and less with every day,” she replies primly, scribbling something down. “Did he do it?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you asking me if Gabriel killed his father? Or if he antagonized the investigation?”

“Both.” She smiles.

“No to both.” I mirror her smile. “Gabriel loved his father. Fabrizio was a good man.”

The lies fall from my tongue so easily and so smoothly that I almost believe them myself.

Debbie clicks her tongue, but I cut her off before she can ask another question. I’m keen to navigate this interview toward the charity’s pursuits.