LOGINEmily's POVJune came the way June came in Los Angeles — not suddenly, not with announcement, but as the natural arrival of something that had always been coming, the warmth deepening from the provisional into the committed, the city settling into the version of itself that it wore for the long months of summer.The roses on the back wall at Cheviot Hills were extraordinary.Anna had said they would be. She had looked at the trained canes in March and said: in June that wall will be extraordinary, with the certainty of someone reading a visual language they understood. She had been right. My mother had sent photographs in the last week of May — the buds swelling, the first blooms opening — and Anna had sent back: I'm coming on the fourteenth. I already have the flights.She came on the fourteenth.I picked her up from the airport. She came through the arrivals door with the carry-on and the dark coat she didn't need because it was June and looked at me with the ease of someone arrivin
Emily's POVSunday was the day Anna had asked for.Not at Cheviot Hills — just the two of us, as she had said when she confirmed the visit. The ordinary time, the time where nothing particular was happening. She had said she wanted to see the consultancy on Friday, which she had. She had said she wanted the garden on Saturday, which she had received beyond what she had anticipated. Sunday, she had said, I want with you.I had been thinking about what Sunday should be since the visit was confirmed.Not an itinerary — she had been explicit about not wanting that. But a shape. The right shape for a day between two people who were still learning each other in the ordinary way, the accumulation of hours and observations and small exchanges that built a relationship into something durable.I had decided on walking.Los Angeles was a city that revealed itself differently at walking pace than at the car pace that most people used — the pace at which you caught the scale but missed the detail.
Chapter 94Emily's POVThe Karen sentencing came on a Thursday.The last week of March, as scheduled. One week after Anna had flown back to Phoenix with the Cheviot Hills mud still on her boots and the photographs of the garden on her phone and the particular quality of someone who had arrived at a place and found it to be what they had hoped it would be.I did not attend the sentencing.Neither did my parents. Neither did Anna. We had all, separately and then together, arrived at the same decision — that the verdict had been the necessary thing, the naming of the true shape of what had happened, and the sentencing was the legal system completing its own work, which it did not require our presence to do.Sarah Mitchell attended. She had offered to — she had been present at the trial, had provided testimony about the records and the investigation, and she said she would go and report back. I had said yes, thank you, the same thank you I kept giving her and which she kept receiving with
Chapter 92Emily's POVAnna arrived on a Thursday evening in the second week of March.I picked her up from the airport alone. Alexander had offered — the same offer he had made for Catherine, the generosity of a man who understood that arrivals mattered and wanted to contribute to them — and I had said yes this time, come with me. He had driven while I sat in the passenger seat and watched the freeway doing its evening thing, the particular Los Angeles rush hour that moved in its own logic, stopping and releasing in patterns that felt random but probably weren't.We parked in the arrivals structure and waited by the doors.Anna came through at seven forty-three. I saw her before she saw us — the dark coat, the single carry-on, the self-contained quality of her movement through a crowd. She was looking at her phone and then she looked up and found us and her face did the thing it did when something landed — the brief adjustment, the composed receiving."You brought Alexander," she sai
Chapter 92Emily's POVAnna arrived on a Thursday evening in the second week of March.I picked her up from the airport alone. Alexander had offered — the same offer he had made for Catherine, the generosity of a man who understood that arrivals mattered and wanted to contribute to them — and I had said yes this time, come with me. He had driven while I sat in the passenger seat and watched the freeway doing its evening thing, the particular Los Angeles rush hour that moved in its own logic, stopping and releasing in patterns that felt random but probably weren't.We parked in the arrivals structure and waited by the doors.Anna came through at seven forty-three. I saw her before she saw us — the dark coat, the single carry-on, the self-contained quality of her movement through a crowd. She was looking at her phone and then she looked up and found us and her face did the thing it did when something landed — the brief adjustment, the composed receiving."You brought Alexander," she sai
Emily's POVThe weeks between the verdict and March had a particular quality.Not the waiting quality — the forward-moving quality of someone who knew what was coming and was moving toward it without urgency, the comfortable approach of a thing that was already decided and simply needed time to arrive. The Karen sentencing was scheduled for the week after Anna's visit, which felt, as Anna had said, correct. The legal chapter closing after the personal one had begun its next movement.March was six weeks away when the verdict came.It was three weeks away by the time February found its pace again.The financial services firm work was deepening. I had moved past the archaeology phase and into the reconstruction — the careful work of taking what the excavation had found and building the new language from the recovered true thing rather than from invention. The CEO had been in three of the last four sessions, which was not something I had asked for but which was, I had decided, exactly ri
Emily's POVThree weeks after Alexander proposed doing our wedding "right," I stood in an upscale bridal boutique with Tasha, staring at myself in a mirror.The dress was perfect—ivory lace with delicate beading, fitted through the bodice and flowing into a soft train. Nothing like the simple white
Emily's POVI found Alexander in his office, standing at the window overlooking the city. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders rigid with tension."Alexander," I said softly from the doorway."Not now, Emily.""We need to talk about this—""There's nothing to talk about." His voice was flat
Emily's POVWe drove back to the penthouse in silence, but it was different from before. The air between us felt charged, electric. Every time Alexander's hand shifted on the gear stick, I was hyperaware of it. Every glance he sent my way made my heart race.What had we just done?The kiss had chan
Emily's POVAlexander was on the phone before I could even process what had just happened."I need a full audit of everyone who had access to the Harrison-Frost prenuptial a







