“Necessary,” he finishes. “I know. But Noah would never forgive me if I weren’t with you tonight. Especially given the attendees.”
He means Richard and Jessica.
We still haven’t found anything concrete tying Richard to Danny, but Noah’s instincts about Jessica have only grown stronger. Richard wouldn’t pay Jessica for her help, and he’d never put anything in writing. My legal team wants to approach Danny, Jessica, and Richard when the timing’s right—but not yet. They’re leaning toward Danny, believing he’ll crack first.
But not yet. Not before we meet with prosecutors.
And then there’s Elizabeth Delacroix—another theory Luca insists on keeping warm, despite my objections. I’ve told them to leave her alone, but it hasn’t stopped talk. Murder-for-hire. Jealousy. A woman scorned wanting a clean alibi and someone else taking the fall. Luca is clinical, cold, terrifying in his detachment.
And Dorian still believes Pierce’s people might be involved.
Too many angles. Too many motives. And none of them clear.
So I’ve decided to focus on what I can control: my daughter, my business, and keeping my life as normal as possible while my attorneys and KOAN hunt for answers. Every night, I’ve spoken to Noah. He hoped his father would be discharged today, but it looks like tomorrow is more realistic.
I pause, studying Gabriel—Gabe, as he prefers. Even in business-casual clothing, with his military bearing and watchful eyes, he looks unmistakably like security. He does not look remotely related to me.
Will the other parents assume we’re dating? Or that I’m under some kind of surveillance?
It’s ironic. My entire career is built on sculpting public perception, and here I am ignoring my own. What would I advise a client in my situation?
Attend with your ex-husband and his girlfriend. Present unity. Signal stability. Let the crowd see you’re confident, not hiding.
I would absolutely advise against showing up with a man who looks like federal law enforcement.
And yet, here I am.
“Is something wrong?” Gabriel asks.
I inhale, shaking off the tightening in my chest, and pick up my handbag. “Nothing’s wrong. Just thinking.”
He lifts his arm toward the front door, jacket riding up enough for me to glimpse his waistband.
“You’re not carrying?” I ask, double-checking. Guns are forbidden on school grounds.
“No,” he says, amused. “But I’ll drive. I don’t anticipate needing firepower at a school function, but if I did, it’s in my glove box.”
“You’re not going to need a gun,” I say, half-laughing, half-drowning in the surrealism of my reality.
“And I don’t plan on carrying one.” He opens the front door with an almost old-world gallantry. “After you.”
I stride past him. He closes the door behind us, and I lock the deadbolt.
“Prepared for all scenarios,” he says after crossing the short stretch to the curb. “That’s what they taught us.”
“Sounds like advice I’d give my clients.”
He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in, feeling oddly…escorted.
“When you’ve spoken to Noah, how does he sound?” I ask once he’s behind the wheel.
“Strained,” he says, adjusting the rearview. “But he’s holding steady. His father’s getting stronger.”
That’s my assessment too. But hearing it confirmed helps.
Gabriel drives without GPS. I watch him navigate the back streets toward the school with unsettling ease.
“Are you from DC?” I ask.