It was a monolith of dark glass and steel, illuminated by blue exterior lights.

I paid the driver and stepped out into the rain.

“Are you sure about this?” Sarah asked, looking up at the towering lobby.

“I have to be,” I said. “For the boys.”

We walked through the revolving glass doors.

The lobby was vast, floored in polished black granite that reflected the high spotlights.

A security guard stood behind a crescent-shaped marble desk.

“Emma Winters,” I said, stepping up to the desk. “I’m here to see Blake.”

The guard checked his screen, then picked up a phone.

He spoke in a low voice, nodded, and hung up.

“Fifty-eighth floor,” the guard said, handing me a laminated visitor’s pass. “The private elevator on the left.”

He looked at Sarah.

“Only Ms. Winters is on the list,” he said.

Sarah touched my arm.

“I’ll wait down here,” she said. “In the coffee shop across the lobby. Go.”

I nodded, took the pass, and walked toward the silver elevator doors.

The elevator ride was silent and fast enough to make my ears pop.