The air smelled of polished stone and expensive espresso.

We took the elevator to the twentieth floor in silence.

The doors opened to the reception area, where the company logo was mounted in brushed steel.

The receptionist looked up, her eyes widening slightly when she saw me.

“Good morning, Sarah,” I said.

“Good morning, Mrs. Mercer,” she stammered, then quickly corrected herself. “I mean, Ms. Vance.”

I smiled faintly and walked past her toward the boardroom.

The room was cold, the air conditioning humming too loudly.

A long oak table stretched down the center of the room, surrounded by leather chairs.

Marcus, Daniel’s primary business partner, was already seated.

His face was pale, his hands clasped tightly in front of him on the polished wood.

Two other board members, older men who had known Daniel’s father, sat near him.

Daniel was at the far end of the table.

He looked immaculate in a dark gray suit, but his knuckles were white where he gripped his silver pen.

Patricia sat in a chair against the wall, her designer purse on her lap like a shield.