"You want me to call him and say you’re my niece? No—I won't do it." The café fell into that small, sharp silence offices cultivate when people are waiting for drama like it's public TV. Karsyn's smile didn't flicker; it sharpened. She tilted her head as if Riley's refusal were a new kind of entertainment. "Oh, come on, Riles." Karsyn set her coffee down with a casual clink. "It's five minutes. You make one little call, I get in front of the VP, I land the pilot slot. We both win. Think of it as... family helping family." Summer's hand hovered over her cup, the way people in HR hold steady over the edge of an argument—ready to intervene, dreading to. She'd been Riley's quiet ally since the new year; today she looked like she was calculating risk in real time. Riley's smile was cool and decisive. "I'm not lying on anyone's behalf." Karsyn's eyebrows climbed. "You're serious?" "Dead serious." Riley didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. Her voice did a different thing: it made the room register a fact that couldn't be bargained with. "If I lie for you, I sign up to be the source of your entire backstory. That ends up on my file. No. I won't do it." A man at the next table pretended not to listen. A woman tapped a message