“The apartment is yours.”

“Now, get out of my office, Adrian.”

Adrian stood there for a moment, looking at his mother, then at me.

He looked like a stranger.

The powerful, untouchable man who had threatened to take my daughter away was gone.

Without another word, he walked out of the room.

Celeste did not follow him.

She stayed by the door, her eyes fixed on me.

There was a strange intensity in her gaze.

The panic in her face had turned into something else.

Something sharp and calculated.

“Ms. Vale,” Margaret said, her voice sharp.

“I believe your business here is finished as well.”

Celeste cleared her throat.

“Of course, Mrs. Whitmore.”

She did not look at Margaret.

She walked toward the table, her eyes locked on my leather handbag.

She took a slow step forward, her hand slipping into her coat pocket.

She pulled out a small, silver flash drive.

She did not hand it to me.

She slipped it into the open side pocket of my diaper bag while Margaret was looking down at her files.

It happened so fast I almost missed it.