Last night, the kitchen — it was a joke, I didn’t mean it, I would never actually lock you in—”

Chapter 15 — The Recording

I reached into the pocket of my navy suit, and I pulled out a small bluetooth speaker, and I set it on the birthday table, and I pressed play.

And Julian’s own voice — recorded the night before, from the second he had come through the door — filled the high-ceilinged room, loud and clear and undeniable, played back to him in front of every person whose good opinion he had ever cared about.

“Tomorrow is my mother’s sixtieth birthday.

You will cook a heritage feast of sixty distinct dishes.