“You are playing with fire,” he said. “Daniel is not a man who lets people walk away with his secrets.”

“He already took my name,” I said, my voice hardening. “He took my work. He took five years of my life.”

I picked up a charcoal stick from the table.

“I have nothing left for him to take,” I added.

Marcus sighed, his shoulders dropping.

“I will handle the catering and the security,” he said.

“Only private security,” I insisted. “People we can trust.”

“I know two off-duty officers who will keep the door secure,” Marcus said.

“Thank you, Marcus,” I said.

He walked toward the door, stopping with his hand on the brass knob.

“Get some rest, Emily,” he said. “You look fragile.”

The word made my stomach turn.

*Fragile.*

It was the same word Daniel had used when the doctors stood around my hospital bed two years ago.

I remembered the cold, white sheets of the recovery room.

I remembered the quiet after the ultrasound machine was turned off.

Daniel had leaned over me, his breath smelling of expensive coffee.