“You have ten minutes, Harper,” Nico said, his voice flat and calm.

“If you aren’t at the back door of the Marigold by then, Mr. Alvarez pays for your stubbornness.”

The call ended, leaving only the black reflection of my own terrified face on the screen.

I looked across the table at Denise.

Her face had gone pale, her professional composure cracking for the first time tonight.

“We can’t just walk into a trap, Harper,” she whispered, grabbing my wrist.

“We have the registry receipt, but it isn’t enough to stop him tonight.”

“He will kill Mr. Alvarez,” I said, pulling my arm away.

I grabbed my wet trench coat from the back of the booth.

“The receipt points to the basement safe,” I said, my voice rising in panic.

“My mother’s notes said the original partnership deed is still hidden down there, behind the old coal cellar.”

“If we get that deed, we have absolute legal proof of ownership.”

Denise stood up, smoothing her coat, her eyes hardening with determination.

“Then we go in through the alley,” she said.