iven Wesley Scott ele

pport us while he, the golden boy from an "old money" Austin family, built his political car

long years, he

r his run for local office. The huge, high-profile engagement party was sched

e email

is childhood friend, were smiling, holding up a document. I zoomed in. It was the d

e line of text from Gabrie

n Wesley walked in, looking pleased with himself afte

is charismatic smil

out. She needed a co-signer to sec

ild questioning a grown-up decision. The

ought a condo w

ning cold. It was a look I knew well, the

ate transaction. If you have a problem with it, we can ju

, would never dare to leave him, not when we were this clos

d face, the face I had once loved

teady. "You're right. The party is to

face. He thought he'd won. He had no idea