Sofia corrected the lie at ten the next morning. Not from the Orlov estate. Not from Moretti Blooms. From my attorney's conference room. Neutral ground. Her choice. Mine too. She sat at the end of a long table in a borrowed navy blouse because she still did not have

Moretti Blooms had never looked so empty. No employees. No customers. No delivery drivers coming through the rear door. Just flowers. And me. I stood behind the counter at eight the next morning with my attorney in the office, my own security company outside the publ

Three weeks later, Moretti Blooms opened at eight in the morning. At eight-oh-five, a customer complained that the roses were too pink. I nearly hugged her. Normal problems were beautiful. The payment processor ran on schedule. The hotel contract was active again. My supplie