“Why me?” Jordan’s voice caught, broke. “I never had a bad review in my life.”

Why Nasir? Why Layla? Why did they have to suffer for Nisha to be avenged? In his heart Sam knew it wasn’t right. When had he lost sight of what was truly important?

“I know this is all a shock . . .” Sam launched into his speech without the usual preamble. “. . . but it could be the best thing that has ever happened to you. Once you put the past behind you, the sky’s the limit.”

“Don’t feed me that BS platitude,” Jordan spat out. “You clearly don’t believe it. Why should I?”

Did he believe his speech? Was the destruction of someone’s life the best thing that could happen to him or her? Nisha’s accident had taken him away from his dream of being a doctor and put him on his current path. He felt no joy in his partnership with Royce, but it paid the bills and helped him to shut off his emotions so the burden of guilt didn’t weigh so heavy on his heart. But he hadn’t put the past behind him. He lived it every day, and it had dragged him farther and farther down into a darkness that had seemed impossible to escape. Until he met Layla.

Before he could answer Jordan’s question, the security guards arrived and escorted the scientist away.

“How about dinner at my place tonight?” Claire suggested when he returned to the boardroom. “I’m not much of a cook, but then I’m not really inviting you over to eat.” She licked her lips. “Not food, at least.”

He was saved from having to turn her down when the next employee knocked on the door. Layla might not want him, but there was no other woman he wanted but her.

“Shari Patel,” Claire whispered as she handed him a copy of Shari’s file. “She and Jordan worked together in the same lab. If she cries, I’ll get a gold crown.”

Patel? A cold chill seeped through his body when the next employee walked in. She was shorter than Layla, her face softer and rounder, and her dark hair fell straight to her shoulders. He couldn’t see any resemblance, but he needed to be sure.

“Are you related to the Patels who own The Spice Mill?” he blurted out after she sat down.

“Different Patels.” She gave him a warm smile. “Although I’m sure if you trace the family tree back, you’ll find we are all related in some way. You know Jana and Nasir?”

“I know Nasir and his daughter, Layla.” Her name caught in his throat, and the memory of the pain in her face when she walked into the party sliced through his heart like a dagger. It was getting harder and harder to feel the righteous indignation over her attempt to expose him that had sustained him since the party.

“I heard they’re closing The Spice Mill,” she said. “Such a shame. I remember going to their restaurant in Sunnyvale when I was a girl. They made the best masala dosas . . .”

Sam winced inwardly at the unintended blow. Even the words masala dosa made him feel sick inside.

“How about we take that trip down memory lane another time and move things along,” Claire said impatiently. “Unfortunately, your employment at GenSys has been terminated effective today . . .”

Sam gave Shari the details: the need to restructure, taking one for the team, her choice of money now or after consulting a lawyer . . .

Shari signed the document and took the check without saying another word.

“Do you have any questions? Any issues you want to raise?” Claire didn’t get any points for employees who signed quietly and walked out the door.

“No.” Shari stood to go. “I knew it was coming. I’ve put the word out in the community that I’m looking for work. I’m sure something will turn up.” She smiled at Sam. “You know how it is.”

Yes, he did know how it was for the Patels. The ties that bound them were so strong they could weather any storm. Lone wolves, however, limped blindly through the snowy wilderness, starving and vulnerable without their pack.

“Thank you for your service to the company,” Sam said, thrown off his game by her calm acceptance of the situation.

“You’re welcome.”

With a puzzled glance for Claire, Sam escorted Shari to the door. “I know this is all a shock, but . . .” He trailed off, suddenly feeling like a fraud. “I had a speech, but it doesn’t feel right to give you advice that I’m not following myself. I’m just . . . sorry. I’m really sorry this had to happen to you.”

“It’s okay.” She clasped his hand. “I know you’re just doing your job. I forgive you.”

I forgive you.

Those three words broke him, even though he didn’t know why. Something inside him crumbled. He hadn’t asked for forgiveness, but now he wondered if it was what he’d been looking for all along.

* * *

• • •

SAM pushed open the door to the office above The Spice Mill and flicked on the light, reeling at the mess. It was clear no one had been in here since the party. Bottles and cans covered every surface. Fruit and canapés rotted on trays. Someone had spilled red wine on Layla’s chaise and the angry black stain had spread over the seat.

He put down his cleaning supplies and used his broom to clear a path through reception to the office where the portable dance pole lay discarded on the floor along with Layla’s broken goldfish bowl and the two dead fish.

Not so lucky anymore.

“So this is what it looks like when you totally destroy your life.” Nisha wheeled herself along the path he’d just cleared for her. After leaving GenSys, he’d driven straight to his parents’ house and told her about everything, from the Alpha Health Care contract to the game he’d played with Layla. Far from judging him, she had insisted on coming to the office to help clean up the mess.

“I didn’t think things could get any worse, but now I’ve lost Layla, possibly the contract, and I’m pretty sure I just gave Nasir grounds for terminating the sublease, although he won’t be my landlord for long. Royce hasn’t answered my texts or calls, so I might even have to leave the partnership, and I haven’t spoken to John since he knocked me out at the gym.”

“And all because of me.”

“No, because of me.”

Nisha leaned over to pick up a discarded champagne bottle. “I didn’t know you felt so guilty or that you would go to these lengths to bring Ranjeet to justice. I was just so glad to be free; I didn’t care what happened to him.”

“You don’t want justice?” Sam asked the question he should have asked years ago.

“Not at the price you had to pay. My focus is on rebuilding my life. I want to look forward, not back. I love that you tried to make it right, Sam, but sometimes you have to let things go.”