Elaine Chen had been in the penthouse for six days, and she had one more thing to do before she left.
Her suitcase was already packed and standing by the elevator, next to the insulated bag of vacuum-sealed ginger that Lucas had prepared for her departure. Her briefcase—the same worn leather case she had brought to Lucas's formal interrogation—sat on the coffee table, containing the thirty-one-page dossier she had compiled before arriving, the fourteen questions she had asked during the interview, the seventy-three follow-up questions she had asked during the voice calibration, and the twelve-page assessment she had written about Lucas Grey's suitability as a permanent member of the Chen family. The assessment had a cover page with paw prints, because Eleanor had insisted, and Elaine had learned long ago that arguing with Eleanor was like arguing with a hurricane—possible in theory, exhausting in practice, and ultimately pointless.
