“We will speak tomorrow, Evelyn,” Charles said.

Bennett looked as if he wanted to yell, but the room was too crowded, too public.

“We are leaving,” Bennett muttered to Celeste.

He grabbed her elbow, but she pulled away from him with a sharp jerk.

She looked at me, a sudden flicker of genuine fear in her eyes, before she followed him toward the exit.

***

We left the gala an hour later.

The air outside on Fifth Avenue was crisp and cold.

Julian drove me back to the Carlyle in silence.

“That went well,” he said as we parked. “The investors are shaken. They do not trust Bennett’s numbers.”

“It is only the beginning,” I said.

We went up to the suite.

Priya was still at her laptop, the screen illuminating her face in the darkened living room.

The room was quiet, lit only by a single table lamp.

“How did it go?” Marta asked, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of tea.

“Arthur is on our side,” I said, sitting down on the velvet sofa.

Priya looked up from her screen, her eyes wide.