a Bak

was heading to his family estate, likely to parade his "success" and solidify his standing, completel

. I had a phone full of evidence now: the voice message, the explicit phone call,

k message to Callie. "Everything. N

Hey, sis," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "I'm comi

concern. "What's wrong? You sound...

ng week. I need a break. I'll explain everything when I ge

voice firm. "You sound exhausted. I'll b

y family. My rock. The thought gave me a

, Jacoby finally stumbled through the door. He

ana?" he slurred, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "My love...

ed to pull me into an embrace, his lips searching f

ly one. My everything. Don't ever leave me. I... I can't lose you." His voice cracked, a fl

e pale and drawn. He looked pitiful, a shadow of the charismatic man I

zling bacon. Jacoby was in the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune, prepa

e way I liked it. "Good morning, sunshine," he chirped

at beside me, sipping his coffee, t

c, quickly masked. "Damn it," he muttered, "another urgent call. I really have to go." He stood up

as going to Bridgette. My private investigator had confir

ice calm. "Go. Take care o

ou, Eliana. You're truly the most understanding woman." He leaned i

rs behind him, a dark baseball cap pulled low over my eye

rom the building, looking impossibly chic in a form-fitting designer dress.

lling her into a passionate kiss, their bodies pressing together in the confines o

ing of "The Gilded Cage," an exclusive members-only club

ulder, a picture of domestic bliss. The club's doorman, a notoriously snobbish old man, greeted th

tourist in my own tragedy. My phone

at the studio. Your art class starts in five

ice tight. "I'm... not

ot? You neve

ed Cage," I said

other end. "The Gilded Cage? Eliana

a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "

rious shriek. "That bastard! I'm co