Chapter 7: Not on the List
Mark stared as realization slowly drained the color from his face.
He saw the tailored blazer. The calm posture. The woman standing at the center of an empire he had no part in building.
Then his eyes dropped to my wrist.
A faint scar remained there from the night he left, when I had cut myself on the motel door latch trying to stop it from slamming loudly enough to wake Lily.
His mouth opened.
Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe he wanted to explain. Maybe he wanted to pretend that walking out on a wife and child at 3:07 in the morning was just a mistake made by a younger man.
I did not give him the satisfaction.
I raised one hand slightly.
My security guard stepped forward.
“We don’t accept walk-ins without an appointment,” I said, my voice cool and steady across the room.
Mark swallowed.
“And you, Mark, are not on the list.”