“Your cuff links?”

“They aren’t mine.”

She opened the box.

“I’m sorry. A hospital volunteer brought them to me. He said they were found in one of the private offices.”

“Which office?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Find out.”

She nodded, recognizing the tone that meant Ethan was asking as chairman of the foundation, not as an anxious guest.

“And locate my actual cuff links,” he added.

“They’re already at the podium.”

Ethan stared at her.

Claire blinked.

“The stage manager found them in the side pocket of your speech folder. I assumed you knew.”

I felt a chill move across my skin.

“Then why was this box sent upstairs?” Ethan asked.

“I don’t know.”

From inside the ballroom came the sound of a microphone being adjusted.

Claire glanced toward the doors.

“You need to go.”

Ethan looked at me.

“You can stay here.”

“If I disappear now, Adrian will follow me.”

“Then stay near the foundation staff.”

“And after the event?”

“We’ll decide after the event.”

The word felt unfamiliar.

Claire pushed open the ballroom doors.

Conversation softened as Ethan entered.

The room seemed to turn toward him at once.

He became Ethan Carter again—the composed chairman, the careful speaker, the man whose presence steadied investors and unsettled competitors. He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, shaking hands and acknowledging familiar faces.

Only I noticed that he did not look toward the stage.

Only I knew who was standing there.

Adrian waited beside the hospital director in a black tuxedo tailored perfectl…