CHAPTER ELEVEN
Her office was padlocked.
The shiny brass hung from newly installed hardware, glaring at her. It would take a chainsaw to remove the thing. She must have stared at it for five minutes before what Patrick had done sunk in. She came to, bewildered and deeply hurt, and then ran up the stairs to her room – the room she had once shared with Patrick. But it was obvious that this was Patrick’s room now, not hers. His clothes hung where they’d hung before. His toiletries were all in place. And while many of her things were where she left them when she raced down the stairs to answer his call earlier that morning, she knew that her once familiar bedroom was missing the substance of Lily Lake Thornton-Wynn, as if that woman had suddenly vanished. The room had been stripped of the ba
