ing with the pent-up anger within him. He slid into the Maybac

from the curb, melting back

pilling onto her fingers, but she didn't seem to notice. Her gaze was fixed on the tiny pinprick on the inside of her elbow, whe

She watched him slam the file down on the counter with a crack that made her flinch. He muttered something under his breath, his voice shaking with fury, then stalked to the window and

da's Upper West Side apartment building. The doctor's words stopped him

the denial automatic. "A new wa

l syncope episode, you arrogant bastard. Consider my medical advisory contract with y

ne wen

rritation, sharp and unsettling, worked its way under his skin. He shoved the feeling down, attributing it to the doctor's un

d the phone back into his pocket. The validation, the simple act of a stranger seeing her pain when her own husband refused to, was the final crack in her dam of compo

ssues on the table beside her.

oftening into pity. "For your own health, f

tion of the dark window. Outside, the lights of Manhattan glittered, a city of dreams that had become her cage. The hope that ha

rotesting the movement, and she had to brace herself against the wall as

late-night air hit her like a slap. It was a shock to her system, but it wa

ferried around in another one of his gilded cages. Instead, she stumbled, her

that when she tried to pull her MetroCard from her wallet, it slipped from her grasp and clattered onto th

me from a late shift, saw her fumbling. She bent down a

rn that made Chloe's throat tighten. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Need me to cal

le, like a piece of glass about to shatte

of yourself, honey. You sure you don't want me to call you a cab or something

her head. "I

"Lord, I hope so. But if you collapse in a t

to change her mind, then turned and walked away, mutterin

aching train a physical assault on her frayed nerves. Th

er head against the cool glass of the window. Her reflection stared back at he

n. Her messages - "Are you coming home for dinner?", "Hope the meeting went well.", "Thinking of you." - were

of her own foolish, relentless hope. With a final, s

ecting Manhattan to Long Island, the last remnants of her

her trembling legs. The massive iron gates loomed in the darkness like the entrance to a mausoleum. The hou

d. She slipped off her heels, the thick wool of the Persian rug a small comfor

ailing along the cold, polished wood of the banister.

d the faint scent of his cologne. She opened the bottom drawer

ive fountain pens from its holder. At the top

e Agre

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