I said nothing. I just adjusted the clasp of my purse. Mark didn’t know that the merger he was so desperate for was with a subsidiary of Vance Global. He didn’t know that Vance Global was the holding company I had founded fifteen years ago under my maiden name. He thought I spent my days arranging flowers and charity luncheons.

We approached the podium. The maître d’, a man named Philippe whom I had personally hired three years ago, looked up. His professional mask slipped for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Ms. Vance,” he started, his voice dipping into a reverent hush. “Welcome back to The Azure. Shall I prepare the—”

I cut him off with a sharp, warning look and a slight, almost imperceptible shake of my head. Not yet.

“Just a table for three, please,” I said, my voice smooth and unremarkable. “My husband insists on mixing business with our anniversary.”