But Lorenzo Costa did not pull out a weapon.
Instead, he removed a small, heavy business card and placed it on the table in front of her.
It was not like the glossy cards passed around by executives desperate to seem powerful. This one was thick, black, and almost bare.
No phone number.
No address.
No name.
Only a single embossed crest.
Genevieve recognized it instantly.
Her stomach turned cold.
Costa watched her reaction, and this time she knew she had failed to hide enough.
“I suspect you have many more secrets, Genevieve,” he said softly. “And I have a very long memory for voices that refuse to stay buried.”
Then he stepped back.
He did not threaten her. He did not demand answers. He simply turned and walked out, leaving the card behind like a key to a door she never wanted opened again.