old of the stor

divorce from his sociali

ashed across tabloids. Rumors spiraled. T

, her name w

enneS

onaire

sedOu

essages. Half of them are from society leeches looking for gossip

her phone i

passed

a few others-half-hearted at

nning the narrative that Vivienne had been dishone

like lovers. It didn't take long for the internet to paint Genevieve as the

wanted

he silence t

, hardly safe. She lay awake each night, heart pounding, obsessively replayin

d her. He'd once called her

d he beli

*

y, she drove ba

dn't k

, ready to admit he'd made a mistake. That he'd

et by two private secu

llowed on the proper

at him. "I

Cross said your ac

y th

for Friday. Your belongings will

add

ent on 62nd. It's been

ldn't b

nt me

ed sympathetic

ft, shame burning

are, lifeless, with gray peeling walls and

meone had delivered earlier. Sh

gner wardrobe. Just her phone, a duffel ba

the moment th

-Julian, their years together, the home they built, the lies, the bet

until th

finally-s

e the pain

ing else had begun

ge. No

test flicker

it... s

't feel l

lt orch

eone had s

em when she f

enne Hartley Cross was no lo

magazine covers and late-night talk shows

: Socialite or

th Loyal Assistant-Wh

abloid Tragedy: What

t? No one was

pping champagne in Aspen with-began dropping her one by one. Invitations dried up. Her name was quietly rem

leper in L

artment wondering if she'd dreamed it all-unti

**

the movers arrive

apartment on 62nd pre-pai

ked "Closet A" and "Home Office." They didn't bother u

," he said

sses wrapped in garment bags. Jewelry she didn't want to look at. A framed phot

he photo

r phone

UNKNOW

You Deser

was a blu

s ear. They were outside a restaurant-one Vivienne had once cho

e in her

aptio

r for months. You

phone like it

allow. Months? Tha

lt. Ambitious. Distracted. But ne

st year-late-night meetings, canceled dinner

nned this