At 7:45 PM, Liora stood before her mirror, the black dress clinging to her body like a second skin. The pearls at her throat felt like a collar. She looked like she was going to a funeral.
Her own, perhaps.
She told Leander she had an emergency meeting at the hospital—a colleague needed coverage. He'd kissed her goodbye, told her to drive safe, to call if she needed anything.
The drive to Abernathy Tower was a blur. Liora's mind kept cycling through possibilities. Maybe Dashiell just wanted to discuss logistics. Medical bills. Custody arrangements. Maybe—
Who was she kidding?
Finlo was waiting in the underground parking garage. He opened her car door with his usual polite smile, but his eyes held something new. Pity?
"Good evening, Mrs. Liora. The boss is expecting you."
The private
