“We are filing the ownership declaration with the SEC this afternoon.”

Victor looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and defeat.

“You planned this,” he whispered.

“I only protected what was mine,” I said.

“Something you never learned how to do.”

I stood up and picked up my leather bag.

I did not want to watch him be led back to the holding cell.

“We are finished here, Evelyn,” I said.

“I will be in the lobby.”

I walked out of the room, leaving the blue binder on the table.

The hallway was quiet, the air smelling of ozone from the storm outside.

As I reached the elevator, my phone vibrated in my hand.

It was a text message from an unregistered number.

I tapped the screen to open it.

There was an image attachment.

It was a photograph of a small, cramped apartment kitchen.

On the laminate counter sat a set of keys and an eviction notice with Victor’s name on it.

Below the photo, a message appeared from a number I did not recognize.

“He knows where you are,” the text read.