I gripped the cheap plastic of the prepaid phone.

“What do you want, Claire?” he asked.

“My father’s safety,” I said. “I want him released from the medical facility where you’re keeping him. And I want a quiet, legally binding divorce. No press, no lawyers, and no more men following me.”

“You are in no position to negotiate,” Julian said.

“I am,” I replied. “If I don’t check in with my contact by midnight tomorrow, the document goes directly to the federal regulators. You will be ruined before the markets open on Friday.”

I heard him draw a slow, deep breath through his teeth.

“Where?” he asked.

“The annual gala,” I said. “Two nights from now. At the Plaza Hotel.”

“You’re bold,” he said. “Or incredibly stupid. You think a crowd will protect you?”

“I know it will,” I said. “You won’t risk a scene in front of your investors. Bring the divorce papers and proof that my father is safe. I will bring the amendment.”

“Fine,” Julian said. “Don’t be late.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone and stared at the blank screen.