The drive from her parents’ modest brownstone to the cold, steel-and-glass Helwart penthouse was a journey between two worlds. Linsy’s hands were steady on the wheel, but her mind was a tempest. Simon’s call had been a masterful manipulation, a guilt-trip wrapped in professional concern, and she had fallen for it. She was walking back into the gilded cage, not as its mistress, but as a summoned servant.

“Thank you for handling this, Linsy,” Simon had said, his voice a study in polite ...