ログインWe've been sitting in the booth long enough that the lunch crowd has thinned out and our drinks have gone warm, but neither of us is in a hurry to leave. There's something about what Chloe just told me — the weight of it, the quiet devastation — that makes me want to stay right here, in this small anonymous restaurant, a little longer.
Then she shifts gears completely.
"Oh — I almost forgot." She pulls out her phone, scrolling. "Have you checked the Ashford for
There is a specific kind of alone that has nothing to do with the number of people surrounding you.I am standing in the center of a room with two hundred people in it, and I have never been more alone in my life.The noise around me is enormous — voices layering on each other, the crackle of speculation and judgment and the specific gleeful energy of people watching someone they considered above them fall below — and underneath all of it runs the quieter, more devastating current: they've decided. Every person in this room made up their mind in the thirty seconds after the necklace emerged, and the trial happening right now is not one I was summoned to. It's one that already concluded before I said a word.
The room doesn't process this quietly.It couldn't, not with these names, not with this crowd. Mia Stone is the most famous actress in the country. Allie Brooks is the woman who married Liam Hart at twenty and has been a source of industry fascination ever since. Two hundred people who read every industry publication, who know every rumor that has ever circulated about both of them, who have spent months speculating about the history between Mia and Liam — these two hundred people have just been told that the two women at the center of that story are the prime suspects in the theft of a fourteen-million-dollar gem.The math of gossip is immediate and brutal. The room doesn't need to deliberate. It simply begins.
The room is completely different with two hundred people in it.The same walls, the same angled ceiling fixtures, the same crystal elements built into the corners — but what felt strange and slightly off when I was alone becomes theatrical with an audience. The light plays differently against so many bodies, catching fabric and jewelry and the whites of expectant eyes. The space smells like perfume and champagne and the specific, charged energy of people who have been promised something extraordinary and are positioned to receive it.The guide stands at the front, remote in hand, looking exactly like a man about to deliver the final act of a very expensive evening.
I planned to avoid her.The plan lasted approximately forty-five seconds after I reached the second floor.I hear the click of heels before I see her, and by the time Mia Stone appears in the corridor I've already turned toward the door of the empty room I accidentally wandered into. I'm moving. I'm leaving. I have every intention of making this easy for both of us."Stop."The word lands with enough authority that my feet actually obey it before my brain weighs in. I stop. I turn. I look at her and she looks at me and the hallway between us is small and the November cold f
George catches Mia's wrist.Not roughly. Not dramatically. The clean, certain grip of someone who has been doing this for years and is done watching it go too far."Mia." His voice is different from anything I've heard from him before. The composure is still there, but beneath it something has shifted — something that is not professional, is not gentle, is a person reaching the exact bottom of what he's willing to overlook for the sake of someone he loves. "If this continues, go back to LA."He releases her arm.Mia Stone stares at him.
Mia Stone doesn't follow me into the elevator.I know because I watch the door close and my own reflection watch me back, and then the floors tick upward and the lobby disappears. I let out a slow breath.She's a top-tier client at Smith & Co. Of course she's here. George's building is her building in every practical sense — her team occupies three floors, her face is in half the campaigns on the lobby wall. There's nothing strange about her arrival.Except for the look.I file it away. I'm good at filing things.
Allie sighed: “We are really married, but we will be divorced soon.”Scarlett’s eyes widened in disbelief. "How can this be?" she asked, her voice laced with shock.Allie turned onto her side, staring at the ceiling. "The truth is simple. He doesn’t love me. I was just a distraction. A temporary fi
Allie’s hands curled into fists as she glared at Liam.“I don’t care anymore, Liam. Julian is better than you, and at least he doesn’t treat me like I’m disposable. I won’t waste my breath arguing. If you don’t sign the divorce papers, I’ll take this to court. Let’s see if you can keep your secrets
Liam Hart’s words cut through the air, leaving the entire room in stunned silence.Wife?What did he just say?The gathered reporters exchanged glances, trying to make sense of the bombshell that had just been dropped. Around the doorway, the secretarial staff, especially Ava, wore expressions of p
At that moment, Preston Whitmore stepped forward and addressed the reporters, his tone authoritative. "That concludes today's press conference. Please make your way back."But one reporter, bolder than the rest, raised his voice. "Mr. Hart, can you two pose in a more intimate position for a headlin







