s a small act of control in a world that felt increasingly chaotic. She rolled up the sleeves of her blou

opened the double-door Sub-Zero refrigerator. It was stocked to capacity. Rows of organic vegetables, imported ch

e marbling was exquisite, white veins o

like a bad omen. "Mr. Montgomery dislikes the smell of seari

e beef on the cutting board. "Mr. M

ing out the housekeeper's disapproval. Years ago, back when they were both at Yale, before the death of her parents, before the trus

ke it belonged to a

th a simple arugula salad and sat at the dining table. The table was mahogany, long enough to seat t

e flame flickered, casting long,

um-rare. She chewed slowly, but she couldn't taste i

it b

as a notification from

also a socialite who thrived on the currency of gos

nshot of an In

g read: The Pie

ia tone. In the foreground, people were holding crystal flutes of champa

s, was a man in a dark suit. His profile was blurry, but Alexa knew the shar

s Fle

vely toward his. She was wearing a dress that was little more than shim

looked like that new model from the Vogue cover last month. She was lau

sn't pushin

er nostrils with a cloying thickness. She looked at the piece of meat on her fork. The f

sea rolled th

iming impeccable. "Shall I clear the ta

artha take it, it was an admission of defeat.

abbed the fork into the

g, coating her tongue in an oily film. She chewed mechanically, her jaw a

down, the wax dripping onto the silver holder in m

e scraped the expensive, barely-eaten meal into the trash compactor. The

Martha," Alexa sai

the white boucle sofa facing the window. Th

Calico cat was pressing its nose against the glass. It was a stray she had

door just a crack. The cat

l up. The cat was bony, its fur rough, but it purred instantly against

ppy to see me," she mur

i

chime shatter

g under the sofa. Alexa stood up, smoothing her skirt wi

or of the foyer. Then a cough-deep, ratt

s, a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette that seemed to suck all the oxygen out of th