o the marble kitchen counter. The shar

wood floor. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest

id he

Cooke know she was stuck on the 'Human Liberty' proposal? How did he

is not God. He does not have

s pacing. He

Someone is feedi

She opens Instagram. She taps on her own pro

as a picture of her triple-shot espresso. But in the blurred background, the edge of h

s breath

ht after her victory in class. A selfie of her holding up a

It was posted exclusively t

. She taps the 'Viewers' icon a

s, her childhood friends, and right at the top, a f

e. Her old

zzle snap together w

runs cold, and

e hisses thro

and hits Jason's number. She does not c

four times bef

p and the raspy undertone of a hangover.

is so shrill it hurts her own throat. "You are screenshotting my

t of silence o

hint of genuine frustration. "Addie, please calm down. Take a breath. I

e velvet pillow from the sofa and hurls it across the room.

n prick her eyes. "Because of you, he blackmailed me into havin

empting to reason with her. "Do you know how many people in Manhattan respect

ine like a physica

cover for her when she snuck out of the

. "How can you push your own sister into the arms of a man from a tot

ous. "You have this completely wrong. Barron is not who you th

est heaves. She is hyperventilating. The betrayal is a physical pain in her ri

let me explai

hell,

thumb onto the r

ling her knees to her chest. She wraps her arms

other is calculating her social value. Her brother is a spy. She

es from her pho

ead. She wipes her wet che

email not

r stomach drop for an en

Fal

r with a socialite, publicly humiliated her in the New York

ens th

I'm flying in for a shoot this week

s a wave of nausea, but then, a dark,

shattered crystal

ntrolling, thirty-three-ye

ffensive, so disrespectful, that Barron Cooke will

smile spreads acro