The restaurant Michael had chosen was one of those exclusive places where they didn't bother with prices on the menu. Typical Walton move. I clutched Jessica's folder tighter as I stepped through the doors, my heels sinking into plush carpet.

Michael stood the moment he spotted me, that familiar half-smile playing on his lips. Eight years hadn't diminished how his presence filled a room.

"Aria." He pulled out my chair. "Thank you for coming."

I sat without acknowledging the gesture. "You mentioned something about the boys' school?"

"In a moment." He signaled the waiter for wine. "You look... tense."

My phone buzzed in my purse. Fourth investor pulling out, most...