Sebastian picked up the ring first, turning it in the light as if it might explain itself. The room he had expected to be full was nearly empty. No investors. No magazine editors. No admiring inner circle. Just three of my father’s business associates seated at the far end of the table, watching him with the polite patience of people who had already made their decision. He set the ring down and tore open the envelope with a confidence that was already beginning to crack.

Inside was a single sheet of paper on my family firm’s letterhead. His eyes moved down the page, and I watched the color leave his face the same way it had left mine at that restaurant two days earlier. He looked up and finally saw me standing near the window, calm, both hands folded in front of me exactly as I had held them when he tapped my wrist like I was a misbehaving child. “Talia,” he said, his voice no longer smooth. “What is this?”