I wondered if he really had agreed to this, or if she had simply signed the papers using his login.

When I reached the office in San Francisco, the streets of the Mission District were quiet.

The Solar Reach logo was painted on the frosted glass of the second-floor window, dark against the night.

I walked up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking under my boots.

Derek was sitting at the conference table, three empty paper cups of coffee in front of him.

“Marcus is still on the phone,” Derek said, looking up.

“Did he reach anyone?” I asked, putting my bag down.

“He got an assistant vice president’s voicemail,” Derek said. “He’s trying the regional director’s home number now.”

“That’s going to make them angry,” I said.

“We don’t have many options left,” Derek said.

He looked tired, his eyes red around the edges.

“You did the right thing, Sarah,” he added softly. “If she got in, she would have spent every board meeting trying to manage your image.”

“I know,” I said. “But the image won’t matter if we can’t pay the developers.”