“The police cannot help you with a man like James,” Dante said, his tone hardening. “They will file a report and put it in a drawer. I will handle him.”

“How?”

“Do not worry about the how, Sophia. Just stay inside today. Tonight, you are coming with me to the gala.”

“I don’t think I can pretend to be happy at a party right now,” I said.

“It is not about being happy,” Dante said. “It is about showing the city that you are with me. It keeps you safe.”

I wanted to believe him.

I wanted to believe that his shadow was large enough to hide me and my daughter.

But as I hung up the phone, the cold knot in my stomach only grew tighter.

By eight o’clock that evening, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and black.

A black town car arrived to pick me up.

The driver, a silent man with a scar running down his cheek, opened the door for me.

Inside the car, a garment bag was draped across the leather seat.