Drisana I left the asylum and went straight to the airport. I didn’t return to the hotel. My suitcase was still there. So was my phone. My passport was the only thing I had with me because I’d tucked it into my handbag before leaving the hotel that morning. Everything else, I left behind without thinking. The flight back to Chicago felt longer than the one to Mexico. I barely noticed the hours passing. Sloane’s voice refused to leave my head. He paid me. He paid me to sleep with Carter. I shut my eyes. No. Carter had always been a cheater. That wasn’t Armani’s fault. And Sloane was sick. She wasn’t thinking clearly. People in her condition mixed reality with delusion all the time. That had to be it. It had to… Didn’t it? I stared out of the airplane window. Then another thought crept in. The hospital. The portraits. The donations. The way every employee knew my married name before I’d introduced myself. The director thanked Armani. How many other things didn’t I
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