I moved swiftly up the back service staircase, avoiding the main entryways so that no one would hear me coming, and as I climbed, I kept the audio feed playing through the wireless earpiece, and Chloe’s voice went on, filling my ear with the sound of the woman I had almost married.

“When I marry Alexander in three months,” she was saying, “you will be fired before the reception even starts.

And if you try to get a reference anywhere in Los Angeles, I’ll make sure you never work in this town again.”

Marisol did not answer the threat.

She only said, softly, to my daughters, “Don’t be afraid, girls.

I’m right here.” And then Chloe barked something that stopped me dead in the stairwell, one hand on the railing.

“They should be afraid!