The warning did not occur as a public spectacle or a dramatic confrontation. Disguised as coincidence, it came silently, enveloped in habit. Before anyone spoke, Emly felt it. That morning, the penthouse felt different—too still, too cautious. With his phone clamped to his ear and a stone-like look, Adrian stood close to the window. She could see the tightness in his shoulders and the slow clenching and releasing of his free hand even though he didn't look at her during his speech. The stuff he was hearing was not brand-new. It served as confirmation. After hanging up, he stayed put, gazing out at the city as though the universe had been adjusted. Emly held out. She had discovered that when quiet conveyed weight, there was no need to interrupt.
At last, Adrian remarked, "They tested the p
