I found them sleeping on a marble bench inside my bank—one exhausted mother and a six-year-old girl hugging a torn rabbit.

“He’ll ruin us.”

I kissed her forehead.

“Then we won’t cancel it.”

Mara stared at me.

I looked at her reflection.

Then at the marks on her back.

“We’ll let them walk straight into it.”

Victor Vale arrived at the rehearsal dinner like a man who already owned tomorrow.

He wore a silver tie, a crocodile smile, and the confidence of someone who had bought bankers,continue reading …