A leather-bound journal.
A bottle of cologne.
An antique silver bookmark from a trip she had taken to Paris.
He left the box with the concierge at her building and included only one note.
Do not contact me again.
Madison called within an hour.
He did not answer.
She texted.
You think this makes you noble?
He blocked her number.
For one full day, there was peace.
Then a cream envelope arrived at his office.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Mark recognized the private dining room immediately.
The chandelier.
The white chocolate raspberry cake.
The silver knife.
Madison stood beside him, her hand over his. Their heads were tilted together. To anyone else, it would look intimate. Celebratory.
On the back, someone had written:
Ask Emily what she knows.
Mark stared at the words.
His assistant knocked once and opened the door.
“Mark? Are you all right?”
He slid the photograph into a drawer.
