New York to JFK. Monday. 10:14 AM.Margot’s flight was at one.She’d announced it Sunday evening with the specific, clipped casualness of someone who had already packed their life into a single suitcase and was simply providing the inventory. She had been sitting at the kitchen island, the blue light of her laptop reflecting in her glasses, and said, "My flight is Monday at one," without looking up.Scarlett had frozen with a kettle in her hand. "What flight?""Amsterdam," Margot said."You’re going back to Amsterdam?"Margot had finally looked up then, her gaze steady, forensic, and entirely devoid of the hesitation Scarlett felt. "I got the scholarship, Scarlett. The Forensic Financial Analysis Institute. The one I applied for way back in September last year."The scholarship. The one from before the "locked room," and everything the mission carried with it. When they were just girls and life was smoother to them than it was now. Then getting the scholarship would have been g
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