engagement celebration.”

“No.

This was supposed to prove I could be humiliated in public without making anyone uncomfortable.”

Her face tightened.

“You have always made yourself the victim.”

Lorenzo closed the folder.

The quiet sound silenced her more effectively than shouting would have.

“Mrs.

Hayes,” he said, “your daughter spent six months protecting this family from the truth.

Mr.

Prescott counted on you punishing her if she ever told it.

Every document in this folder exists because he understood which daughter you would believe and which one you would sacrifice.”

My mother’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

Ethan saw the shift and attacked it.

“Listen to him,” he said, looking around the table.

“He walks in here with staged photographs and recordings from some criminal accountant, and suddenly everyone forgets who Scarlet is.

She is jealous.

She has always been jealous of Chloe.”

Chloe flinched.

Ethan continued before anyone could interrupt.

“She begged me not to leave her.

She threatened to ruin us.

Now she has brought a gangster to dinner because she cannot stand seeing us happy.”

He pointed at Lorenzo.

“Do any of you even know what this man does? Do you think he owns hotels because he enjoys room service?”

The restaurant had become completely silent.

Diners at nearby tables pretended not to watch while hearing every word.

Lorenzo did not react.

Ethan mistook that calm for hesitation.

“The Moretti family has been accused of smuggling, extortion, bribery—”

“Accused,” Lorenzo said.

“Frequently by men who owed us money.”

A few people near the bar lowered their eyes.

Ethan turned to me.

“And you expect everyone to believe he is dating you?”

Lorenzo’s gaze moved to mine.

The arrangement had been simple when I entered his office.

He would attend one dinner.

Ethan would believe my relationship with Lorenzo had made me reckless, and in trying to humiliate me, he might say something useful.

Nothing about the arrangement required Lorenzo to defend the lie.

He could have called me an employee.

He could have said the dinner was part of an investigation.

Instead, he reached beneath the table and took my hand.

“I do not require their belief,” he said.

“Only yours.”

Ethan stared at our joined hands.

Then he laughed again, but there was no confidence left in it.

“This is a setup.”

“Yes,” I said.

“You built it yourself.”

Tobias stepped away from him and touched the earpiece hidden beneath his collar.

The front doors opened.

Two detectives entered with a woman I recognized as the Moretti Grand’s chief legal counsel.

Behind them came a federal financial crimes investigator carrying a sealed evidence case.

Ethan stood.

One detective raised a hand.

“Ethan Prescott, remain where you are.”

My mother whispered his name as if she could still call him back into the version of reality she preferred.

Ethan looked at Chloe.

“Tell them,” he said.

“Tell them Scarlet has been threatening us.”

Chloe’s eyes filled with tears.

For one terrible second, I thought she would do it.

Protecting Ethan would have been familiar.

Blaming me would have been easy.

My family had spent years teaching her that consequences belonged to someone else.

Instead, Chloe pulled off her engagement ring.

“He asked me for a photograph of Scarlet’s passport,” she said.

The investigator turned toward her.