At ten o'clock, Daniel called.

“Marcus Hale says you've been asking about the board meeting,” he said. “What are you playing at?”

“Just curious.”

“Don't be. You've never understood the business and you never will.” I could hear music behind him, and Vanessa laughing. “Tomorrow is the biggest day of my life. Sterling is paying twelve million for thirty per cent. And the board is approving a four-million-pound bonus for me as part of the deal.”

“That's a lot of money.”

“And none of it will touch you. The divorce isn't final, so my lawyer is moving it into a new account the minute it lands.”

So that was the plan. Sell a third of my company cheaply, hide the money, and leave me with an old Volvo.

“Daniel,” I said, “have you ever met the director of Whitmore Holdings?”

“Why would I? Some old trustee of your dad's. He signs whatever I send. He's coming tomorrow to rubber-stamp it.” He laughed. “Probably wants a free lunch.”

“Probably.”

“And Grace? Don't come anywhere near my office. Don't embarrass yourself. It's over.”

He hung up.

I sat in the dark kitchen for a while. Then I went upstairs and opened my wardrobe. At the back, in a garment bag, was the navy suit I'd bought for my father's funeral.

I hadn't worn it since.

Tomorrow, I would.