“Good evening, Monica,” Charles said. “I hope you’re taking proper pain medication for that.”

“The doctors gave me plenty,” I said, keeping my smile steady. “But I wanted to be fully present tonight.”

Behind them, the foyer was quickly filling with the rest of the guests.

Richard Lindell, the managing partner of Derek’s firm, entered with his wife, Clara.

Two other senior partners and their spouses followed, their heavy wool coats smelling of woodsmoke and cold air.

Chef Laura’s hired servers moved quickly and silently among them, taking coats and offering silver trays of champagne.

“Richard, Clara, thank you so much for coming,” Derek said, his voice instantly shifting into his warm, charismatic corporate tone.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Derek,” Richard said, shaking his hand before turning to me. “Monica, you look lovely, but what is this?”

He pointed a finger toward my cast.

“Just a little winter mishap,” I said, lifting the arm slightly so the overhead chandelier light caught the rough texture of the fiberglass.

“A very nasty fall,” Derek chimed in, his smile flawless. “I told her she should be resting in bed, but you know how dedicated she is to her guests.”