“You are late,” he says in Vilosh to Teddy, to us, and Teddy smiles again, saying it’s his fault (even though it was totally mine), and something I don’t hear because the blood roars in my ears. I sit between Noni, who is pale-faced, and Teddy, who squeezes my shoulder before taking out a second cell phone and scrolling through both. While I’m staring out at the city, lost in how much could have changed in a decade (When was the last time Dad was here? Did they ban him from the premises after they made him step down?), someone brings me a glass of mildly effervescent water, and people are speaking in quiet voices, when Noni pinches my thigh.

“Are you with us, Miss Hammick?” Nítuchí says, before nodding at the stiletto-heeled assistant, who presses a button that blackens over the windows, shutting us off from the city, just like a bad-tempered god would. “This meeting was a courtesy for you. We’re busy people here.”

“Of course,” I reply, my voice still all grit.

“We’re here today to discuss your future role at Hero Pharm,” he continues stiffly. “As you’re aware, your father resigned and sold all of his shares to me two years ago and rendered all of his voting rights unto his brother, and—”

I choke on a breath.

“Mr. Nítuchí,” interrupts Teddy, setting down his phones. “I’ll respectfully ask that you stop there. The girls haven’t been informed of the details. They—they haven’t been here since their father passed.”

Everyone stares at us, and a phantom clock ticks, ticks, ticks. I feel Nítuchí’s frustration at being interrupted, physical in the room with us.

“We have a schedule to adhere to. The board is very busy. Might I remind you that we’ve rescheduled this several times because of your schedule, Mr. Hammick,” Nítuchí replies, glaring at Teddy’s electronics, splayed on the table.

“And I do appreciate that,” Teddy says. “But I respectfully ask that we save the details of this discussion for a more private forum. Would that work for everyone?” he asks, turning to me.

Nítuchí makes the faintest hissing sound, and Manon looks at me, hard, her eyes watering. I can’t tell if she expects something from me or if she’s just sad. All I can think of is, So that’s where all of that trust money will be coming from—Dad wasn’t just forced to step down. He was forced to sell his shares of his brainchild, of Hero Pharm, to a freaking monster.

“Wait. So … we aren’t … getting any part of Hero Pharm?” I ask, before swallowing a knot of pain.