My breath caught in my throat.

Under the heading of “Honorary Chairpersons and Lead Donors,” there was a name I knew.

*Daniel Morrison.*

Beside it was the name of his architecture firm.

I stared at the screen, my mind spinning.

Before I could process it, another notification banner slid down from the top of the screen.

It was a text message from a number I had blocked months ago, but somehow it had come through on my work profile.

It was James Hendricks.

“Victoria, I see you are on the committee list for the gala. I’m attending as a guest of the board. We should grab a drink and clear the air.”

And right below that, a second text arrived from Mark.

“I know you’re avoiding me, Vic. I’ll see you at the gala on Friday. We need to settle this once and for all.”

I stood alone in my kitchen, the phone trembling in my hand as the cold reality of the upcoming night settled over me.

I locked my phone and set it face down on the counter.

The silence of my kitchen felt heavier now.