Aria's POV
Meanwhile, across town, I was attending the business dinner for the Riverside Pack project.
I'd brought Jennifer along, planning to make a brief appearance, shake a few hands, and leave as soon as it was polite to do so.
The restaurant was upscale—white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, the kind of place where deals were sealed over wine that cost more than most people's monthly rent.
But the dinner had barely started when Jennifer's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her face going pale.
"I need to take this," she murmured, already pushing back her chair.
I watched her hurry toward the exit, her shoulders tense. Something was wrong. She'd been off all day—distracted, jumpy, like she was carrying a secret that was eating her alive.
When she returned
