My assistant ushered in my very first official client of the day.

It was Julian Hayes.

He looked sharper, less burdened than he had that night in the ballroom. He accepted a cup of coffee and sat across from my heavy oak desk.

“Ms. Claire,” Julian said, offering a small, respectful smile. “I assume you know why I’m here.”

“I have a feeling it isn’t to discuss wedding planning, Mr. Hayes,” I replied, opening a fresh, blank notepad.

Julian chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Hardly. My family’s portfolio unfortunately had some minor entanglements with Carlo Moretti’s logistics companies before everything blew up. We suspect there are hidden liabilities.”