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I smoothed the crisp linen tablecloth one last time, adjusting the sterling silver candlesticks to perfectly frame the crystal vase of red roses between them. Nine years. Nine years of us, of building a life together, of weathering storms. The dining room in our Connecticut mansion glowed with warm light, casting dancing shadows across the mahogany table set for two. The anniversary dinner I'd planned was intimate—Mark's favorite beef Wellington, a bottle of the Bordeaux we'd discovered on our honeymoon, and the chocolate soufflé that always made his eyes light up. Nine years deserved celebration, deserved acknowledgment of all we'd overcome together. I checked my watch again. 7:45 PM. He'd promised to be home by seven. My phone buzzed with a text. Mark's name flashed on the screen. *Emergency at the