Maren’s name lit up the glass.

I slid the phone into my coat pocket without answering.

The receptionist, Sarah, remained in the doorway, her knuckles white on the brass handle.

“Tell them to wait in the main lobby,” Elliot said.

His voice was flat, devoid of its usual warmth.

“Give them coffee, offer them water, and tell them I will be down in ten minutes,” he added.

“Yes, Mr. Crane,” Sarah said.

She closed the door behind her with a soft, heavy click.

The silence returned to the boardroom, thick and suffocating.

Graham stood up so fast his leather chair rolled back and hit the credenza.

“This is a setup,” Graham said, his voice rising an octave.

He pointed a shaking finger at me.

“Elliot, look at her,” Graham said, stepping toward the table. “Look at what she is doing.”

Elliot did not look at me; he kept his eyes on the rain-streaked window.

“She is a scorned wife,” Graham said, his chest heaving under his custom-tailored suit. “She found out about Bianca, and now she is trying to destroy my life.”