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Her gaze drifted across the crowded dining room. In the far corner, beside the frosted glass, two women sat lingering over coffee. One of them, wearing a sharp wool blazer, laughed quietly as she reached across the table to tuck a loose curl behind the other’s ear.

The gesture was small, effortless, and terrifyingly familiar.

She remembered the feel of the linen shirt beneath her fingers in the dark. She remembered the low, gravelly tone of Victoria's voice when she whispered commands across a telephone line, and the rare, breathtaking sound of her genuine laugh under the willow tree by the lake.

Emma reached into the pocket of her coat. Her fingers closed around her phone.

She pulled it out and unlocked the screen. She opened the messaging thread.

Victoria's last text was still there, sitting at the bottom of the display:

Emma, I’m writing to inform you that the sale went through, but you probably already know this. There is something you need to know about it. It is not what it looks like. I will explain when the time is right. You should’ve gotten the money by now. Please, once again Emma: trust me.

Emma stared at the words until the glow of the screen blurred.

Trust me.

The audacity of those two words made her chest ache so violently she had to set her wineglass down to keep her hand from shaking. She had trusted her. She had trusted her in the dark of the bedroom, under the willow tree by the lake, and across the kitchen island for three golden weeks in July—right up until Victoria had handed her secrets over to Harrison like spare change.

Her thumb hovered over the keypad. Part of her—the weak, traitorous part that still woke up at four in the morning reaching across an empty mattress—wanted to type back. She wanted to beg for the explanation that would magically erase the sound of that town car driving away.

What does it mean? she wanted to ask. Why did you break me?

She looked up. Camille was chatting with the waiter as he brought a basket of warm bread. Outside the window, Paris was moving through the autumn night, alive and completely indifferent to a ruined inn in the English countryside.

Emma lowered her hands. She couldn't survive another lie over a telephone line.

If Victoria Sterling had something to say, she couldn't hide behind a screen to say it. Emma was no longer an abandoned girl waiting on a pavement for someone else to decide her fate. She had money in the bank, flour on her boots, and a trade in her hands.

With a flick of her thumb, Emma closed the messaging app without replying, locked the screen into darkness, and slid the phone deep into her coat pocket.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Victoria

The boardroom on the sixty-eighth floor was silent, save for the low hum of the projector and the soft ticking of a platinum Rolex on the wrist of the Vanguard CEO.

Victoria sat at the head of the long mahogany table, her posture flawless. For the past three hours, she had systematically dismantled the opposing legal team’s arguments regarding the telecom merger. She had anticipated every loophole, countered every defense, and cornered them into a position where signing her term sheet was their only viable option for survival.

This was her element. This was the arena she had bled for, sacrificing weekends, holidays, and human ties for twenty years to conquer. She was Victoria Sterling and for twenty years, she had been the firm's closer.

"The non-compete clause is non-negotiable," Victoria said, her voice perfectly modulated, sliding across the glass table like a blade. "You have thirty minutes to review the revised addendum with your board. After that, we withdraw the acquisition offer and let the market dictate your share price by tomorrow morning. I imagine your shareholders will not be pleased."

All color drained from the Vanguard CEO's composure. Exchanging a silent look with his lead counsel, he nodded once and reached for his gold fountain pen.

A few months ago, watching that pen hit the paper would have sent a rush of pure, venomous adrenaline straight through her veins. It would have been a triumph. Today, sitting in the sterile, climate-controlled air, Victoria felt absolutely nothing.

The ink dried. The firm had just secured a two-billion-dollar merger.

Victoria stood up, buttoning the front of her charcoal blazer. She shook the necessary hands, offered the necessary empty smiles, and walked out of the double doors.

Her executive assistant, David, fell into step beside her as she moved down the glass-paneled corridor.

"Congratulations, Ms. Sterling," David said, handing her a stack of sorted correspondence. "Harrison wants a debrief in his office at three. Also, the firm's brokerage commission for the UK estate finally cleared escrow an hour ago. The anonymous Delaware buyer's funds were released, and the deed is officially recorded."

"Thank you, David," Victoria murmured. She didn't look at the files. She looked at the city sprawling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Millions of people, millions of lights, and none of it meant a thing. "Cancel my afternoon appointments. All of them."

David paused, his pen hovering over his tablet. "All of them? Even the restructuring call with Tokyo?"