"Quinn, I'm fine." I sank into the back seat, letting my head fall against the leather. "Take me back to the estate."
The car pulled smoothly away from the hospital.
The cabin was quiet. Then Quinn's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"Stephens canceled your credit cards. He also froze that savings account you'd been using as a cover identity." Quinn's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. "He even put the word out to every hotel in Crestfield: anyone who takes you in is making an enemy of the Stephens Group."
I tugged at the corner of my mouth.
William Stephens was nothing if not controlling.
He thought cutting off my money would send me crawling back to the mansion the way I had for the past five years, ready to apologize, maybe even pour tea for Alma Harding like a servant.
"He's always believed those few thousand dollars a month in living expenses were some kind of gift he was graciously bestowing on me."
I closed my eyes. "Let him."
"Miss Ashford, say the word." Quinn's voice held no warmth at all. "The Stephens Group will be gone from Crestfield by tonight."