The heavy glass doors swung open with a rush of air. Ava Steve strode in, her tall frame commanding immediate attention, her navy suit crisp, her stride purposeful. Conversation in the restaurant faltered; even the clink of cutlery stopped.

Her gaze swept the room once, taking in the toppled wine glass, the dark stain blooming across Pearl’s blouse, the smug expressions on Tricia and Ryan’s faces and Nora, standing frozen in place.

“What,” Ava said, her voice calm but laced with steel, “is going on here?”

The security guards stepped back without a word, straightening instinctively.

Nora opened her mouth, “Vice President Steve, it’s just”

Ava raised a hand, silencing...