Lila Parker stood near the elevators, laughing with two coworkers, hair perfectly styled, bright badge clipped to her blazer. When her eyes met mine, her smile faltered—like she sensed danger but hadn’t yet learned to fear it.
I stopped directly in front of her.
“Lila?” I asked, projecting just enough for the lobby to hear.
Her face drained of color. “Yes?”
I placed Ethan’s suitcases at her feet and released the handles.
“Congratulations,” I said. “He’s yours.”
For a moment, the lobby fell silent—the way rooms do right before an alarm sounds, everyone instinctively holding their breath.
Lila opened her mouth, but no words came. Her gaze dropped to the luggage, then lifted back to me. She looked like someone handed something alive and didn’t know where to set it down.
“I—I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Oh, you do,” I said calmly, almost courteously. My heart pounded, but I refused to let it show. “Ethan Lawson. Your boss. My husband.”
Behind us, the receptionist had frozen mid-motion. Two men in suits slowed their steps, pretending not to stare while staring anyway.
Lila flushed bright red. “I’m not—this is—you’re making a scene.”