The Imposter in my bed
She holds it out to me.
"I have connections in circles that Lea Jackson couldn't buy her way into with a billion dollars," Margaret says quietly.
"I have judges in my pocket and media executives on my payroll. If you are building a guillotine for that woman, you are going to need social influence to make sure her head actually rolls."
I stare at the card.
"Why are you helping me?" I ask, refusing to take it just yet. "You haven't said a word for three years."
"Because until tonight, I thought you were dead," Margaret says gently, her dark eyes softening with a trace of genuine grief.
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