“I’m not joking; I’m dead serious.” Luna looked at me, a trace of guilt flashing across her face. She hesitated, as if she wanted to reach out and hold my hand, but halfway through, she pulled back. Glancing at the man behind her, she said, “Give Ms. Wilson the contract.”

The man in the black suit, who had been standing silently at her side, handed me a document.

It was a termination agreement. The wording was extremely professional, and it was clear ...