Vanessa staggered back, catching her heel in the hem of her dress, staring up at me like I’d climbed out of a grave. Daniel dropped his champagne flute and the crystal burst against the marble, and nobody so much as flinched.

Pierce sat down heavily in a chair, put his face in his hands, and said, “Oh God. We’re finished.”

I took a step. Then another. I walked toward her, and my stride was perfectly steady.

“My spine was never broken, Vanessa,” I said. “Your coup is.”

On cue, the side doors opened.

Four police detectives came into the room, and behind them my lead litigator with an accordion folder thick enough to bury everyone in it.