Then I showed up. I’d made notes about the woman’s visit after she left my office and had written a very in-depth description of her. I showed him the deposits she sent from her account to mine. I told him that the woman who framed you said her name was Mellie. That she’d lied to me. That she said she had Lola’s best interests at heart, but that she’d also hired a private investigator.
I never should have told you the name, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a lapse in judgment. I became greedy, heard about the money and lost myself for a while. But I knew the woman was watching, and you were pulling away. I prayed you wouldn’t do anything bad, and then I found out you left St. Petersburg. I knew it was happening. You’d fallen into whatever trap she had set for you.
I saw the images of you with Lola Maxwell on your Instagram. I sobbed. I hurt for you. I’d hoped you’d let it go. I tried calling so many times. You’d changed your number.
But it’s okay. You’ll be okay.
Georgia . . . she’s a bad woman, Ivy, and she must be stopped. I’m going to do that with the forty thousand dollars she so willingly handed over to me.
You’ll be angry with me right now for keeping my distance—letting this breathe—but in the end, you’ll thank you.
I’ll save you. I promise.