“Claire?” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked up. “What are you doing here?”

Then his eyes shifted to Julian, and his expression hardened. “Vance. If this is about the Chicago bid, my lawyers are handling it.”

“Adrian,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. “Where is Serena?”

He scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s at the apartment. She had a headache.”

“She’s not at the apartment,” I said. “She’s at O’Hare.”

Adrian laughed, but it was a dry, nervous sound. “What are you talking about? She’s waiting for me to finish here.”

I set my laptop down on the table, turning the screen toward him.

The transaction log was still updating in real-time, red lines of text flashing as the funds were cleared.

“Look at the authorization codes, Adrian,” I said. “That’s your digital signature, but the IP address is registered to a cellular hotspot currently located near the airport expressway.”

Adrian stared at the screen, his face turning pale under the warm light of the lounge.

“That’s impossible,” he muttered. “She doesn’t have those codes.”