Grace's POV
The restaurant was different this time.
Not the coffee shop. Not the safe public space where they could blend in with other people. Michael had texted her the address that morning with a single word: emergency. The restaurant was in Chinatown, tucked between a laundromat and a store selling jade figurines. The kind of place where nobody knew anybody's business because everybody had their own secrets to keep.
Grace was already terrified when she arrived.
Michael was at a corner table, a manila folder open in front of him like he was actually reviewing legal documents instead of preparing her for war. He didn't greet her. He just pointed to the chair across from him.
"Dominic called the family meeting for tonight," he said quietly. "He's claiming you're working with federal investigators. He has evidence of your coffee shop visits."
Grace felt her stomach drop. She'd been careful. So careful. But careful wasn't enough in a world where people had eyes everywhere.
