Hartley said, very quietly, “Wesley.”
That did it.
He handed it over.
Then Inez extended her palm again.
“The vendor passwords.”
He stared at her.
She didn’t move.
He took out his phone.
Even from six feet away I could see his thumb shaking as he opened the planning app, the shared folders, the florist account, the venue portal. She watched him type each password continue reading …
