“Well, then,” Esteban said, sliding the paper across the heavy oak table. “Let’s hope you only need the needle and the thread.”

The courtroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Even the court reporter paused, her hands hovering over the stenograph machine, as Judge Harrison opened the heavy red cover.

The silence in the boardroom stretched so thin it felt like piano wire ready to snap.

Marcus had warned me about his mother. He told me she was “particular,” “traditional,” and “protective.” Those words were polite, dutiful ways of saying his mother was a manipulative snob who believed she was meant to manage her adult children’s lives with an iron fist.

He’s supposed to be meeting me here,” Rose added, her voice trembling as she picked up the spoon. “His flight from New York was delayed due to the snow.