When I return to my office, I notice a string of texts from Solange that came in during the team meeting. The last one asks me to call her as soon as possible, so that’s precisely what I do.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she says hoarsely.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my heart ratcheting up at the possibility that she’s in trouble.

“Yes, yes.”

“Is my mother okay?”

“Yes, she’s okay too. It’s . . .”

“Solange, breathe. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s Peter and Molly. Well, Peter really. He was here. At Rio de Wheaton.”

“Okaaay.”

“They met your mother, and somehow it got out that we’re not really a couple. I don’t know. He asked her about the wedding. Said it was wild. And then it spiraled from there. It’s a mess.”

“So Peter knows it was all a lie?”

“Yes,” she chokes out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

My vision swims, and I can’t stop blinking. Fuck. This is a nightmare. I’d bet my life that Henderson was texting Peter during the meeting just now. “It’s not your fault, Solange.”

“Still.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to take your mother home and head to my place. I’ll be around if you need me.”

I wish I could reassure her, but I’m too dazed and confused to be persuasive at the moment. Besides, Henderson just appeared at the threshold of my office, so I can’t say anything of consequence anyway.

“Thanks for letting me know,” I tell Solange. “I’ll take it from here.”

Henderson regards this as his cue to close the door. Wearing a smug expression, he drops into one of my guest chairs. “As you may already know, I received a disturbing text from Peter this afternoon. Although there’s no explanation that wouldn’t make me question your judgment, I thought I’d give you a chance to say your piece before I go to my partners.”

His condescending attitude saps me of the energy to go toe-to-toe with him. I’m just . . . tired. I mean, utterly and truly depleted. This man has never wanted me to succeed here. I don’t bring in enough business. I spend too much time volunteering. I’m not cutthroat enough. Worst of all, some of our clients prefer me to him. And just when he was going to have to swallow his resentment and vote for my promotion, Peter gave him the gift he’s always wished for: a valid excuse to fire me. So I’m fucking done. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Henderson. Will anything I say make a difference?”

“I need to know that my colleagues are trustworthy. Honesty is the lifeblood of our trade, as you know. So in my mind, the answer’s a definite no.”