A cold glass facade greeted Linsy as she stepped through the back entrance, far from the reporters crammed at the front like vultures. Their cameras, eager as predators, lay poised, hungrily searching for a moment of scandal or sorrow. Linsy’s throat tightened. She wasn’t here for spectacle, but the cameras were here to devour every shred of dignity she still possessed.

Simon, Michael’s steadfast assistant, hovered beside her, hesitation etched into his posture. His ...