After that, Justin behaved himself for a while.Daily reports came in on time. The restaurants he booked were ones I actually liked. My calendar ran clean.Vivienne didn't show her face again.I figured he'd learned his lesson.Then last week, he started coming in late.Monday—twenty minutes late. Subway signal issue, he said.Wednesday, fifteen minutes. Broken elevator.Friday, half an hour. Dead phone, alarm didn't go off.I didn't bother calling him out. I was busy. And there was still his mother to think about.What finally caught my attention was an expense report.Friday afternoon, Connie from finance brought me a stack of receipts to sign off on.I flipped to the back and stopped.Seven restaurant charges in a row. All billed to my business entertainment account.Amounts ran from three thousand to twelve thousand.Six different Michelin-starred restaurants. Plus one private club.All this month.Every line read the same: "Business entertainment, Ms. Sinclair."I had never set fo
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