Chapter 176

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Latisha entered, carrying a stack of files. She stopped short when she saw Selah rising from behind the desk, standing so close to Clifford.

Latisha's fingers tightened on the documents she was holding.

Selah smiled smoothly. "I was just helping Mr. Lambert find something. You should knock before you enter."

Latisha's lips thinned. She glanced at Clifford, who frowned slightly but said nothing.

She lowered her head, placed the files on the desk, gave a small bow, and quickly left the room.

Selah watched her go before turning back, only to find Clifford staring at her.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Lambert? Is there something on my face?" she asked, touching her cheek.

His gaze lingered on her for a long moment, making her feel increasingly uneasy. Finally, he looked away.

"Ms. Madison," he said, his tone unreadable, "focus your energy on your work."

Selah's smile faltered. “I understand,” she said, her voice coolly professional. She turned and walked out, her heels clicking on the floor.

Once outside, the professional mask dropped, replaced by an expression of cold, calculating resentment.

Latisha sat at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen until it went dark. "Hey, time to go home," a colleague said, tapping her on the shoulder.

Latisha snapped out of her trance and nodded, beginning to pack her things. Her phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message.

It was from Zadok. The message was short.

[She's been hospitalized.]

Below it was the name of a hospital and a room number.

Latisha knew instantly who "she" was. Her heart leaped into her throat. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the office.

The area around the building was crowded with people trying to hait cabs. able to get one, she ran several blocks away and ordered a car through an app.

While she waited, a light drizzle began to fall, slicking her hair. A Bentley pulled up beside her, and window rolled down to reveal

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Clifford's face. He was steering wit one hand, his head turned to look at her.

"In such a hurry? Get in."

Latisha stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head and signed: *I have something to do.*

"What is it?"

She hesitated, then signed again: *I'm going to the hospital to see Mrs. Dashiell.* Clifford's eyes narrowed, his voice turning icy. "I said, get in!"

Latisha stood in the rain, looking small and fragile, her eyes pleading but stubborn.

He ignored it. "Don't make me say it a third time."

She wrung her hands, then finally reached out, opened the car door, and slid inside.

"If I behave," she thought, "maybe he'll agree to let me go. If I fight him, I definitely won't make it there today."

Clifford pulled the car into traffic,

which was snarled and barely moving. After twenty minutes, they had gone less than a quarter mile. Annoyed, he rolled down his window, lit a cigarette, and leaned back, exhaling a plume of smoke.

The rest of it drifted back into the car, stinging Latisha's eyes. She held back a

cough and gently tugged on his sleeve.

He glanced at her, then looked away.

"Forget it," he said, ruthlessly crushing her unspoken request.

Latisha thought of Mrs. Dashiell, of Preston's hostility, and her anxiety mounted. She tugged his sleeve again.