The air inside the opulent, brightly lit dressing room was thick with a suffocating, cruel tension.

He knew before Marcus sent the name.

There were only three men at that wedding he hadn't personally invited — business associates of Renata's she'd added to the list late, politely, with a brief explanation he hadn't pressed.

He remembered one of them because Nora had mentioned him afterward — something slightly off about the way he'd watched the ceremony, too interested, too still.

At the time Darius had let it go.

The name came through.

*Garrett Foss.*

He sat with it for a moment.

Garrett Foss had been Renata's attorney before the marriage.

She'd told him they'd transitioned to new counsel after the engagement — a clean break, appropriate boundaries.

He hadn't thought to verify it.

He called Marcus back.

"How long has the SUV been there?"

"Twelve minutes before I arrived.

So roughly thirty total since she left your property."

"Thirty minutes is enough time to hand something off."

"Yes."

"Can you get inside the building?"

"Not tonight.

Not without more than I have."

"Then watch the door.

I want to know when she leaves and what she's carrying." He paused.

"And I want everything you can get on Foss by morning.

Prior clients.

Any cases involving family court, custody, asset disclosure.

Anything."

"Understood." Marcus paused.

"Mr.

Calloway.

There's one more thing."

"Say it."

"The man — Foss — he arrived before she did.

He was already in the building when her SUV pulled up."

Darius let that land.

"She called him from the road," he said.

"Or before.

The timing's close." A pause.

"He may have been expecting her."

He ended the call.

Nora was still in the study, sitting in the chair by the window.

She hadn't left.

She was watching him with the particular expression she reserved for moments when she had something to say and was measuring whether he was ready to hear it.

"Say it," he said.

"I met her twice before you announced the engagement," Nora said.

"Once at the gallery opening in March.

Once at the Hendersons' dinner in April." She paused.

"Both times, she asked questions about Lily."

"She knew I had a daughter.

That's not—"

"Not that kind of question." Nora folded her hands in her lap.

"She asked about Lily's condition.

The timeline of the diagnosis.

Whether the treatment had been successful.

Whether there were lasting effects." She paused again.

"I thought she was being thorough.

I thought she was trying to understand what she was stepping into." She looked at her son steadily.

"I should have told you."

The room was very quiet.

"What exactly did you tell her?" he asked.

"The truth.

That Lily had been very ill.

That she'd come through.

That there were monitoring appointments every six months but that the doctors were optimistic." She paused.

"And that the medical expenses during the acute period had been significant."

Darius was quiet for a moment.

"She was building a case," he said.

"Before she even agreed to a second date."

"I think so."

"She wasn't after a divorce settlement." He sat down slowly in the chair across from his mother.

"She was building something bigger.

A custody challenge, maybe.

Or a competency claim.

Something that uses Lily's medical history to argue I'm a neglectful parent — too focused on the business, inadequate care during the illness, the wrong choices during treatment." He paused.

"With Foss as her attorney.

Who she never actually stopped working with."

Nora pressed her lips together.

"Can she win that?"

"No," he said.

"But she can make it expensive.

She can make it slow.

She can put Lily through hearings and evaluations and depositions." He looked at the empty safe.

"And she can make sure I spend the next two years fighting instead of working."

He stood up.

"I need to call my attorney," he said.

His phone buzzed on the desk.