Mag-log inJames's POVI watched the lift numbers count down on the display above the doors.Then I turned and walked back down the corridor, past the conference room with its scattered chairs and abandoned water glasses, past the assistants' bay where two people were laughing about something on a computer screen, past all the ordinary furniture of a working day.I stopped at the window at the end of the hall.The city spread below in its afternoon configuration — cars, pedestrians, the particular flat light of a sky that couldn't decide on weather.Skyler Hills.I had done my research before walking into her office this morning. I had known who she was for weeks, ever since that night at the bar when I had gone through her phone out of habit — a bad habit, the kind that came from growing up in a family where information was currency and you collected it automatically, reflexively, the way other people collected receipts.I had seen her contact list. Her work calendar. The name Zain Hills appear
Skyler's POVI had not known he would be. I found out when I walked in behind Zain and saw James already seated on the left side of the conference table, mid-conversation with the head of the strategy division, relaxed and collegial and entirely at ease in the way that people were when they had power or wanted you to think they did.His eyes found me the moment I entered.Then they moved to Zain.Something passed across his face — quick, almost imperceptible — and then it was gone, replaced by the smooth professional expression of someone at a business meeting who had no personal stakes in anything.Zain noticed none of this. He was already looking at the projected figures on the screen, his attention locked in the focused, slightly restless way it got when numbers interested him. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table without looking at who was already seated around it.I sat two seats to his left, where I always sat, and opened my notebook."Let's start with the Harlow acq
Skyler's POVThe thing about trying to hold yourself together was that it required constant, exhausting maintenance.By Thursday I had developed a system. Wake up before Zain. Coffee with too much sugar. Thirty minutes at the window where I let myself feel everything I wasn't going to feel for the rest of the day. Then I put it all in a box, somewhere behind my sternum, and I went to work.It was not a healthy system. But it was functional, and functional was what I had.The office had a different texture this week. People looked at me differently — not unkindly, mostly, but with that particular sideways attention that meant they had seen the press coverage and were trying to reconcile the Skyler they knew, the one who brought the wrong coffee order to meetings and stayed late to fix other people's filing errors, with the woman in the headlines. Zain Hills' Secret Wife. The tabloids had given me a title before I had figured out what I actually was.I kept my head down. Answered emails
Zain's POVAfter she left, I sat at my desk for a long time without moving.The resignation letter was in the bin. I could see the corner of it from where I sat, white paper against dark metal. I had not read it. I didn't want to read it. Reading it would have made it too real, the version of events where she actually left, and I was finding that version increasingly difficult to entertain without a particular cold feeling settling in my chest that I did not have a professional name for.I picked up my phone and called my head of security."The video," I said, when he answered. "Find it. Find every copy. And find out exactly who sent it.""Sir?""Today," I said. And hung up.I stood up and walked to the window. The city below was going about its business, small and busy and completely indifferent to the particular chaos of my personal life, which I had always appreciated. The city didn't care who you were. It just kept moving.Kate had made a mistake.She had sent that video to Skyler
Skyler's POVI didn't sleep.Not really. I drifted in and out of something shallow and restless, the kind of half-sleep where your mind keeps running even though your body has given up. Somewhere around three in the morning I heard Zain's footsteps pass my door, slow and deliberate, and then stop. I held my breath without meaning to.He didn't knock.After a moment, the footsteps continued down the hall toward his room, and I released the breath slowly into the dark ceiling above me.By six I was up, showered, and dressed in my work clothes out of habit, even though I had no clear plan for the day. Getting dressed felt like an act of intention. Like telling myself that whatever was coming, I would be upright for it.I went to the kitchen and made coffee — too much sugar, the way I always had it, the way he had noticed and never commented on but somehow always remembered when he poured it for me — and I stood at the counter and looked at my phone.Seventeen notifications. Most of them
Skyler's POVI heard him on the phone.I wasn't trying to listen. I had been standing at the window for almost an hour, watching the street below, watching nothing really, just needing something to look at that wasn't the four walls of a room that smelled like him. But his voice carried through the house in the quiet, low and controlled, the way it always was when he was keeping something carefully in check.I couldn't make out all the words. But I heard enough.Third precinct. Downtown. My lawyer.So he had bailed her out.I turned from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. My wedding ring was on the nightstand. I had taken it off an hour ago and then felt immediately guilty about it, which made me angrier than the original offense. I shouldn't feel guilty. I had every right to take off a ring that had been given to me as part of a business arrangement by a man who then went and spent the night with his ex-girlfriend.I picked the ring up and held it in my palm.It was heavy for







