“I’m sure the company’s doing just fine,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I felt. “So why summon me like this?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his chin toward the low glass table in front of me.
“Open it.”
My eyes followed his gesture and landed on a plain, cream-colored envelope resting neatly at the center of the table. Cautiously, I leaned forward, picked it up, and slipped my hand inside.
My fingers brushed against glossy paper.
I pulled out a photograph—and froze.
It was a picture of Amara and a little girl, maybe five or six, standing beside her. They were laughing.
My brows drew together as I flipped through the rest of the photos. Each one showed the same two people, in different places, different days—but always together. A park. A café. A
