in the Meatpacking District and cal

selves feel better. He was sleazier, more reckless, an

poured out. He complained about Julian's tyranny, his grandfather's dis

of a gentleman, Ryan," he said, leaning in. "With a woman like

talking about?

whatever. A friend of mine slips something in her drink. Another guy, a professional, takes her

e'll sign anything you want just to make it go away. She'll be so hum

eins turned to ice. "Th

our favor. Use it." He pulled out his phone and showed Ryan a picture Sienna had just posted-a sad, beautiful selfie with a caption about s

of Julian's cold voice, was enough. Ryan's last shred

"Do it," he said, his

phone lit up with a text

tion and can meet you for a preliminary divorce discussion tonight at 8 PM.

, but the thought of moving things forward, of finally cutting

a quiet booth in the back where a man in a sharp suit was waiting. He introduced himself as the paralegal

ve. About fifteen minutes in, a strange heat began to spread through her limbs. The low thrum of the

nowing smile on his face. "Excuse me for a mome

er ret

ain. The heat was intensifying, coiling low in her belly. It

n she knew

cut through the haze. S

table, then the wall, her body a dead weight she had to drag towards the exit. Every step was a batt