It was Nico’s personal cell phone.

He looked down at the screen, and I saw the name of his lead attorney flash in green letters.

He did not answer it, but the heavy vibration rattled his wine glass against the silver fork.

Beside us, Elise stood near the kitchen doors, her tray held tight against her chest.

Mr. Alvarez was watching through the circular glass window of the kitchen doors, his apron stained with gray dishwater.

“Nico,” Seraphina hissed, her voice trembling as she looked at the whispering diners. “Do something.”

Nico looked around the room.

Several diners were now standing up, leaving cash on their tables and heading toward the coat check.

The hum of gossip was rising, drowning out the soft jazz playing through the ceiling speakers.

He knew the local press would be next.

“We are leaving,” Nico said quietly.

He did not look at Seraphina as he spoke.

He reached down, took his wife by the elbow, and pulled her up from her chair.

“This is a temporary inconvenience,” he said, looking directly at me.

“We will see you in court, Harper.”