CHAPTER 8: The Man With the Phone

Benjamin finally lowered his phone.
It remained in his right hand, but it no longer looked like a weapon. It looked like proof that he had no one useful left to call.
He tried another tone.
Softer. Polite. Too late.
“Ms. Carter,” he said, “I didn’t know who you were.”
Ava almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because he still believed that was a defense.
Around them, the lobby waited under warm daylight and chandelier glass. The marble floor reflected Benjamin’s cream suit and Ava’s white dress like two versions of wealth standing on opposite sides of a line.
Ava touched her cheek once, then let her hand fall.
“That is the problem,” she said. “You thought you had to know who I was before you treated me like a person.”
The sentence left Benjamin with no place to hide.
Marcus took one measured step closer.
Benjamin did not move.