The champagne Marcus ordered costs more than my first month's rent when we started this company five years ago. I watch the bubbles rise in crystal flutes that probably cost even more, and I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. "To us," Marcus says, raising his glass across the table at Aureole, the restaurant where we sealed our first major deal. "Five years of Chen & Torres Consulting. We've built something incredible, Elena." I clink my glass against his, forcing a smile. The view from the sixty-first floor is stunning—all of Manhattan glittering below us like we own it. In a way, we do. Our client list reads like a Fortune 500 directory. We're the firm that turns failing companies into success stories. "We have," I agree, taking a sip. The champagne tastes expensive and somehow hollow. "Though I'll admit, I didn't expect such a fancy celebration. You've been so busy lately." Marcus grins, that charming smile that convinced our first client to take a chance on two unknowns with nothing but a business plan and audacity. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a gift for you." He slides an envelope across the white tablecloth. It's heavy, official-looking. My heart does a strange flutter. In five years of partnership, we've never exchanged gifts. We're not that kind of business relationship—we're the kind that works sixteen-hour days and celebrates victories with takeout at our desks. "Marcus, you didn't have to—" "Open it," he insists, leaning back with an expression I can't quite read. Pride? Excitement? Something else? I unseal the envelope and pull out what appears to be a property deed. My confusion must show on my face because Marcus laughs. "It's a penthouse. Upper West Side, three bedrooms, two thousand square feet. Incredible light." I stare at the document, my brain struggling to process. "I... Marcus, this is too much. I can't accept—" "It's not for you," he interrupts, and the world tilts slightly on its axis. "It's for Sienna. My creative consultant. I wanted you to know because it's time I brought her more officially into what we're doing." Sienna. I've heard the name maybe twice in the past six months, always in passing. Some freelancer he hired for the Richmond Industries rebrand. "You bought your consultant a penthouse." My voice sounds distant to my own ears. "Well, she's more than that now." Marcus signals the waiter for more champagne. "She's brilliant, Elena. Her insights on the Richmond project—that was all her. And the Morrison deal we just closed? Her strategy." The Morrison deal. The one I spent three months developing, barely sleeping, missing my sister's wedding because I was too deep in financial projections and market analysis. "I developed the Morrison strategy," I say carefully. "You developed the framework," Marcus corrects, his tone almost patronizing. "Sienna refined it. Made it work. That's why I've been setting up a separate venture—Chen & Associates. More specialized consulting, higher-tier clients. I've been funneling some of our profits into it to get it established." The champagne in my stomach turns to acid. "Some of our profits." "It's an investment in our future. Well, my future, technically—the new firm is solely under my name. But it elevates the whole brand, which benefits you too." He says this like it's reasonable, like I should be thanking him. "I wanted to tell you on our anniversary because I'm grateful, Elena. None of this would be possible without your work. You've been the foundation that let me build something bigger." I set down my glass before I throw it. "How much of our profits?" "About forty percent over the past year. But think of it as reinvestment—" "Forty percent." The number echoes in my head. Forty percent of what I earned, what I built, going to fund Marcus's side venture and buy real estate for a woman I've never met. "That's embezzlement, Marcus." His face hardens. "It's strategic reallocation. Check the partnership agreement—I have discretion over investment decisions." He's right. I remember that clause. We were so naive five years ago, so trusting. I never imagined I'd need protection from my own partner. "I want to dissolve the partnership." The words surprise me as much as they surprise him.