Marlo did not sleep.

At 6:15 the next morning, she sent Poppy downstairs to Ruthie’s flower shop under the excuse that Mrs. Pike needed help arranging ribbons.

Then Marlo called the police.

By the time an officer arrived, the black sedan was gone.

“No plate?” he asked.

“I couldn’t see it.”

“Did the person threaten you?”

“No.”

“Approach the building?”

“No.”

“Could have been waiting for someone.”

“He photographed my window.”

The officer wrote something down.

“Did you see that clearly?”

Marlo hesitated.

“Pretty clearly.”

The officer promised extra patrols.

Marlo recognized the tone.

There was little they could do.

By eight, the bakery filled.

By nine, she had burned two trays of scones.

At 9:17, the bell above the door rang.

Elias Marchetti walked inside.

Thursday.

Not Tuesday.

Marlo stared.

He approached the counter.

“You’re early.”

“For next week?”

“You only come Tuesdays.”

“You noticed.”

Marlo folded her arms.

“You’re difficult not to notice.”

His gaze moved over her face.

“You didn’t sleep.”

“That is none of your business.”

“True.”

Marlo waited.

Elias glanced around.

“Where’s your daughter?”

Every muscle in Marlo’s body tightened.

“How do you know I have a daughter?”

He seemed to realize the mistake immediately.

For the first time, Marlo saw genuine hesitation.

“Ruthie talks.”

“Ruthie does not know you well enough to tell you about Poppy.”

Elias said nothing.

“Why have you been coming here every Tuesday?”

His jaw tightened.

“I like apricot tarts.”

“No.”

“They’re good.”

“You’ve been here fifty-one Tuesdays.”

One corner of his mouth moved.

“You counted.”

“I own a bakery. Patterns matter.”

Elias looked toward the window.

Marlo suddenly remembered the sedan.

“Someone watched my apartment last night.”

His eyes snapped back to her.

The change was instant.

The relaxed stillness disappeared.

“What kind of car?”

“Black sedan.”

“Make?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“No. Someone was sitting in the back.”

“Did they approach you?”

“No.”

“Poppy?”

“She was asleep.”

Elias’s expression darkened.

“Did you call police?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“They took a report.”

“That means no.”

Marlo bristled.

“They did what they could.”

Elias removed his phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Someone who can do more.”

“No.”

He stopped.

Marlo stepped closer.

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what business you’re involved in, and after what Ruthie told me, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Reasonable.”

“You don’t get to send mysterious people after mysterious people because I told you something.”

His face remained unreadable.

“You think I would endanger you?”

“I think I don’t know you.”

That landed.

Elias slowly put the phone away.

“You’re right.”

Marlo had expected resistance.

His acceptance unsettled her more.

She rubbed her forehead.

“My ex is trying to take Poppy.”

Elias waited.

“He says I can’t afford her surgery.”

“Can you?”

The question was direct.

Marlo resented it.

“No.”

“How much?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because the next thing out of your mouth will be an offer to pay.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t need to.”

Elias looked genuinely puzzled.

“Your daughter needs surgery.”

“And I will find a way.”

“You have a way standing here.”

“No. I have a stranger standing here.”

Silence.

Marlo immediately regretted the words.

Something moved behind Elias’s eyes.

Not anger.

Pain.

He looked toward the pastry case.

“Fair enough.”

He turned.

“Elias.”

He stopped.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

Before Marlo could answer, the door opened.

Preston entered.

Alone.

He looked from Marlo to Elias.

Then laughed without humor.

“Of course.”

Marlo stepped from behind the counter.

“What are you doing here?”

“You received the petition.”

“I did.”

“So now we talk.”

“No.”

Preston ignored her.

“This isn’t about revenge, Marlo.”

“You disappeared for three years.”

“I made mistakes.”

“You missed her sixth birthday.”

“I was living in Chicago.”

“You missed her seventh.”

“I was rebuilding my life.”

“You missed the appointment when doctors told me she needed surgery.”

Preston’s expression hardened.

“And now she needs care you cannot provide.”

Marlo’s voice dropped.

“Get out.”

“Friday, I’m asking for temporary custody.”

Elias turned slightly.

Preston noticed.

“This is family business, Marchetti.”

Elias answered calmly.

“You walked into her business.”

“I’m warning you to stay out of it.”

Elias’s eyes narrowed.

“Was that a warning?”

Preston immediately reconsidered.

Marlo stepped between them.

“Stop.”

Both men looked at her.

“I don’t need either of you deciding things for me.”

She pointed toward Preston.

“You want court? Fine. We’ll go to court.”

Then she looked at Elias.

“And you. No phone calls. No favors. No fixing things.”

Elias held her gaze.

“All right.”

Preston laughed.

“You really believe that?”

Marlo ignored him.

Preston lowered his voice.

“You have no attorney.”

“I’ll get one.”

“In twenty-four hours?”

“I’ll manage.”

“You always say that.”

Marlo’s face burned.

Preston stepped closer.

“Poppy needs stability.”

“She needs her father to stop treating her like leverage.”

That erased his smile.

“Be careful.”

Elias moved.

Only half a step.

Preston noticed.

“Tomorrow,” Preston said. “Ten o’clock.”

Then he left.

Elias remained silent.

Marlo turned toward him.

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“That would be an unusual medical condition.”

She almost smiled.

Almost.

Then Elias reached into his coat.

Marlo stiffened.

He removed a business card.

No company logo.

Only a name and number.

“Call this woman.”

“Who is she?”

“Family attorney.”

“I said no favors.”

“She’ll decide whether she wants the case.”

Marlo studied the card.

“Will she know you sent me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a favor.”

“Marlo.”

It was the first time he had used her first name.

The sound of it in his voice made her pause.

“Your pride can survive accepting a phone number.”

Her eyes flashed.

“This is not pride.”

“What is it?”

“Control.”

Elias went still.

She continued.

“Preston spent years making me feel like every good thing came with strings. Money. Help. Apologies. Everything had a price.”

Understanding entered Elias’s expression.

“If you help me, I need to know the price.”

“There isn’t one.”

“Everyone says that before there is.”

Elias stared at her for several seconds.

Then he placed the card on the counter.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

He walked to the door.

“Why?”

Elias stopped.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?”

He looked at her.

For a moment Marlo thought he might finally answer.

Instead he said, “Because some people should have been helped sooner.”

Then he left.

The sentence stayed with Marlo all afternoon.

At four, she finally called the number.

A woman answered.

“Catherine Bell.”

Marlo introduced herself.

There was a long pause.

“Elias sent you?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

“Come immediately.”

Catherine’s office overlooked Boston Harbor.

She was fifty-something, silver-haired, sharp-eyed, and frightening in a completely different way from Elias.

She read Preston’s petition in silence.

Then she looked up.

“This is aggressive.”

“Can he win?”

“Yes.”

Marlo’s stomach dropped.

Catherine lifted one hand.

“That doesn’t mean he will.”

She flipped pages.

“Your financial position is weak. His absence is helpful to us, but he’s apparently prepared explanations.”

“What explanations?”

“He claims you prevented contact.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I believe you. Courts require evidence.”

Marlo swallowed.

“I have messages.”

“Keep everything.”

Catherine continued reading.

Then her expression changed.

“What?”

“This physician’s declaration.”

“What about it?”

“He says Poppy’s surgery should happen within six weeks.”

“Yes.”

“Preston’s petition says you delayed it against medical advice.”

“I didn’t delay anything. The hospital required a deposit.”

“Do you have correspondence proving that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Catherine leaned back.

“Someone constructed this petition very carefully.”

“Robert?”

“Possibly.”

Marlo hesitated.

“Someone called the hospital asking what would happen if Poppy’s operation was delayed.”

Catherine’s face sharpened.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Who?”

“They don’t know.”

Catherine immediately picked up her phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Elias.”

Marlo stood.

“No.”

Catherine looked almost amused.

“You came through his referral.”

“I came for a lawyer.”

“And you have one.”

Catherine set down the phone.

“Fine. I won’t call him.”

Marlo exhaled.

“Yet.”

“Catherine.”

The lawyer smiled thinly.

“You’ll learn something about me, Ms. Hart. I dislike coincidences.”

They spent three hours preparing.

When Marlo returned to Heart and Crumb, Ruthie was waiting with Poppy upstairs.

Poppy had fallen asleep on the couch.

Ruthie whispered, “There was a man asking about you today.”

Marlo froze.

“What man?”

“Didn’t give a name.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked when you usually close.”

Marlo’s stomach tightened.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was calling the police.”

“Ruthie.”

“He left.”

Marlo crossed to the window.

The street looked normal.

Too normal.

She locked the door.

Then she noticed an envelope on the floor.

It had been pushed through the bakery’s mail slot.

No stamp.

No address.

Her name was written across the front.

MARLO.

Inside was a photograph.

Her breath stopped.

It showed Poppy leaving school three days earlier.

Taken from across the street.

On the back, someone had written six words.

Withdraw from court before Friday morning.

Marlo’s hands began shaking.

Then she saw a second line beneath it.

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—