The city was quiet, the streets slick with grease and water under the streetlights.

We checked into a small, quiet hotel near Central Park under Grace’s name.

I didn’t sleep.

I spent the night sitting in the armchair by the window, watching Lily sleep in her crib.

At six in the morning, Grace knocked on my door.

She was already dressed in her charcoal suit, her hair pulled back in a tight, professional bun.

She carried a cardboard tray with two paper cups of coffee.

“The indictment was officially unsealed an hour ago,” Grace said, handing me a cup.

“Adrian is being held at the Metropolitan Correctional Center.”

“And Celeste?” I asked.

“She was seen leaving his apartment at five a.m. with three suitcases,” Grace said.

“The paparazzi were waiting for her.”

“Her lawyers have already issued a statement denying any knowledge of his business dealings.”

I took a slow sip of the hot coffee.

“She won’t get away that easily,” I said.

“No,” Grace agreed. “But today isn’t about her.”

“Today is about the board.”

I stood up and went to the closet.