o the freezing concrete silence o

ed her wrinkled black skirt, and walk

s her bleeding knuckle. At the corner of 5th Avenue, she flagged down a yellow cab, sliding

ce raspy and dry. "The Neon A

ulled out her phone. The screen was already an avalanche of LinkedIn notif

with a numb thumb and o

balance loa

ification from Mount Sinai Hospital,

NED: -$45,000.00 -

d into her chest l

commissions were strictly contingent on deal closings. Her sixty-thousand-dollar bonus

ijacking the account, t

idn't have

l seizures. For the past four months, Adaline had survived on three hours of sleep, working eighty-hour consulting weeks by day, and working the high-roller VIP floor at The Neon

eason Angus had m

behind the club. Heavy bass thrummed through the reinf

sical bills, stepped out into the rain, an

empty locker, and pulled out her spare pair of flat black leather boots. She washed the blood from her torn knuckle u

ere pale, but her chin was high. The wounded wom

e swinging double doo

al glasses chimed against marble countertops. Adaline stepped behind the main bar and fell into an automatic rhythm-cracking

oor manager, shouldered his way through the

ed, wiping his forehead with a bar towel. "I

"Booth Four is reserved for the private equ

rocks glasses, slamming them onto a silver tray. "Some high-roller slipped in unannounced forty minutes ago. Dropped an open titanium tab, downed half a

eavy silver tray i

h around these Wall Street sociopaths. Go d