Page 48 of Zorro

But her name, his name, froze her in place.

“…Dr. Quinn’s Welcome talk? Devastating. Honest. The kind of thing that stays with you.”

Everly slowed.

A woman’s voice answered, “I don’t know how she did it. To speak like that…after everything? She’s incredible.”

A man let out a quiet breath. “She always was. Even when she didn’t see it.”

There was a pause.

Then, soft, almost regretful, “I met Rob once. Cairo. Trauma policy review a few years ago. We were in the speaker’s lounge between sessions. He said—” The man hesitated. “—he said she only got invited because she was easier on the eyes than the competition.”

Someone gasped, sharp and appalled.

The woman’s voice returned, fiercely. “He said that? About his remarkable wife?”

“He said it like it was a joke,” the man replied. “But it wasn’t, and it stuck with me. I thought…maybe she knew. Maybe that was the deal. He got the spotlight. She was quietly brilliant. But watching her today…” Another breath. “I don’t think she knew.”

Everly couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t want to believe it. But she did.

Now she could feel it. The accumulation of little wounds she’d dismissed. The way Rob had smiled too thin when she was praised. The edits. The vanishing citations. The silence when she won awards.

It had all been there, and she'd called it partnership.

She pivoted away before the tears could rise, walking fast, her heart pounding.

She needed answers and she needed them now. She turned toward the stairwell and took the steps down two at a time, heart pounding. She bypassed the press room, the conference wing, the glass atrium lounge. She walked fast with purpose.

Straight to Madeline.

The knock was firm, decisive.

Everly’s hand trembled against the brass plaque outside the suite.

She always sensed that Madeline and Rob were closer…even closer than he and Everly. She didn’t want to seem petty, but the pain in her was throbbing with incidents that were starting to add up.

Madeline opened the door a beat later. Not in heels or her usual crisp tailoring, but barefoot, her blouse untucked, a pair of reading glasses perched atop her head.

She blinked. Then stilled.

“Ev?” she asked gently. “What?—?”

“Can I come in?” Her voice was too calm. That scared her more than anything.

Madeline stepped aside instantly. “Of course.”

The door closed behind her with a soft snick, sealing them off from the world. The room smelled like brewed tea and paper, sunlight pouring through gauzy curtains that swayed in rhythm with the breath of the air conditioner. Somewhere, a kettle beeped.

But all Everly could feel was the burn of the keycard still in her pocket and the roar of her thoughts spiraling.

“I need to know something,” she said quietly.

Madeline turned from the table, frowning. “What is it?”

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