a P

odical conversion. Stocks he had signed over to me were sold off in small, untraceable increments. The boutique hotel downtown was transferred into a holding company controlled by my mo

et appraiser. Yesterday, I sold it to a private international buyer through a proxy. The money

sensed my withdrawal. He gathered his inner circle-his Consigliere, Marc Chen, and his most t

ces from the wives and the smirks shared between the men. Their complicity was a poison in the air

layed the part of the doting husband, bringing me drinks, touching my arm, his actions a performance for his men. I wasn't a pe

shades of orange and purple, a familiar wave of exhaustion washe

o Liam, the lie tasting like ash.

in conversation with Marc. "Fine," h

lmost made me dizzy. I was utterly alone. And for the first t