Alex opened her book to where she’d left off, doing her best to reorient herself and train her eyes on the words. But the novel might as well have been written in hieroglyphics, for all her distraction: her interest kept flitting over to the crossbody bag resting on the bistro chair next to her, where her phone was waiting inside. The video on Horace was quickly going viral, bombarding her with so many notifications that she had to delete a few work-related apps. Normally, when a work assignment achieved escape velocity, she refreshed it obsessively with a thrilling pride. She loved to see the numbers tick upward, the inevitable debates forming in the comments from people well outside of their core audience. But this time, the thought of it just made her sick to her stomach—every milestone meant a compounding problem for Danial come Monday morning.

What she’d told Danial during that last argument was true: it was her job to take on firms like Horace. But she had to admit, at least to herself, that the blinding righteousness she felt when she’d commissioned the video was more than a little personal. She wished with a wincing clarity that she had given him the heads up. She wished that their history—however imperfect—had pushed her toward empathy and not malice.

From inside her bag, her phone began to buzz. She set down her book and slowly began to fish it out, terrified and hopeful about what might be waiting on the screen.

ELENA ONASSIS hit her like a pie in the face.

“Hi, Mom,” she deadpanned, swiping open the call to audio only.

“Hi, baby,” Elena replied, sounding unusually gentle. Something was up. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, just reading my book. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing. Dad says ‘hi.’”

From somewhere in the room, Alex heard her father’s voice rise up with a half-shouted “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad,” she replied, keeping her answers short. “I’m doing fine, thanks.”

“How’s life on the boat?”

That was the thing about Alex’s mother: she knew that getting a straight answer out of her daughter on sensitive issues was nearly impossible, so she would walk around her evasiveness instead, erecting blockades at every exit until Alex was forced to tell the truth.

“It’s great.” This wasn’t entirely a lie: life was great on the boat—she just wasn’t on it at the moment.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Elena replied, choosing her words carefully. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Just exploring the town, grabbing some food, you know.”

“With Danial?”

Alex’s heart dropped into her stomach, her tone dipping into an icy self-preservation: “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you were with him all day yesterday.”