Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

key.

“I believe this belongs to you, Marcus,” I said, sliding the folder across the wooden counter.

Marcus looked down at the paper, then up at me, his brow furrowing as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the blue towel. He opened the folder just enough to see the pink termination slip inside before closing it with a soft grunt.

“You shouldn’t continue reading …