I didn’t know she filed a restraining order against him. Why does it hurt hearing this from Blake?
He leans against my desk. “One of those employees? His name was Johnny Chen. He blacklisted him with every major business in Atlanta. He had to move to Charlotte to find work.”
“Jesus.”
“There’s more. He’s been posting on LinkedIn—vague stuff about ‘former associates who think they can steal clients’ and ‘the importance of loyalty.’ Not naming names, but?—”
“But anyone in the industry would know this is about Ember.” My hands curl into fists.
“Yeah.” Blake’s watching me. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I scrub both hands over my face. “She made it clear she doesn’t want my help.”
“And if he’s dangerous?”
“Then I...” I trail off, because I don’t have a good answer. “I don’t know, Blake.”
My phone buzzes. A text from
Ember: Running late to the planning meeting. Vendor crisis. Start without me.
“She’s drowning, and she won’t let me throw her a line.”
“So, throw it anyway.”
“She’ll hate me for it.”
“Maybe.” Blake straightens. “But at least she’ll be safe.”
When Ember arrivesat the station an hour later, she looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes that makeup can’t quite hide, and her jeans hanging looser than they did a few days ago.
Uncle Jimmy goes through the final fundraiser details while Ember takes notes, her phone buzzing beside her. Each notification makes her flinch, but she keeps her professional smile firmly in place.
It’s only when Romeo asks about the timeline for the setup that I see her hands shake.
“Setup starts at 6 AM Saturday,” she says, her voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers. “Volunteers arrive at 7. We’ll need all hands-on deck to?—”
Her phone buzzes again. This time, the message preview is long enough that I catch a glimpse from across the table:
You think you can take half? I’ll make sure you never work in this industry again. You’re nothing but a?—
The message cuts off, but I’ve seen enough.
Ember flips the phone over, but not before I see her hands are shaking.
“Ember,” I say. “Can we talk? Privately?”
“I’m in the middle of a meeting?—”
“Now. Please.”
Uncle Jimmy reads the room. “Let’s take a ten-minute break. Get some coffee, stretch our legs.”
The others file out, leaving us alone in the conference room. Ember starts gathering her papers, avoiding my eyes.
“What did that message say?” I ask.
“It’s nothing?—”
