Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine

ancing in the silent air. Eve sat on the sprawling white sofa, a cashmere throw clutched

he minimalist clock on the wall. The door to the master be

n glowed with yesterday's news. Sh

had appear

staurant. Bianca, laughing, reached across th

section was a

ook so perfe

arke person? A temp

other casualty of a

ch clench. She shut off the phone, th

ents for Augustine's breakfast. Freshly squeezed orange juice. The specific brand of Irish oat

chen, her kind face etched

"Just a bad night's sleep." She packed the oatmeal into a thermal c

filled with a deep, sorrow

thes occupied one side, his the other. A stark, physic

hing she had never done before, showing up un

h a polite, impenetrable smile. "I'm sorry, Ms. Clarke. Without an appo

id, the words tasting

n't waver. "We're aware, but

ion. His wife. Barred from e

Augustine's executive assistant appeared. He w

convey a message. He said that all wedding matters are a

l, blocking any possibility of a real conv

rs. She felt like a joke. The whole world knew her husband was with an

a long time, the engine

read: Ele

randmother. T

adying breath and an

saw the news. Don't you pay it any mind. Augustine has his m

ice water. Eleanor wasn't concerned about Eve's pain.

tinued, her tone shifting from gentle to commanding. "We'll h

n't a

mother," Ev

ed over her. In this marriage, everyone cared abou

bloid featured a large photo of Augustine and Bianca, side-by-sid

curb. She rested her forehead against the steering wh

nutes, her pho

ade her heart leap with

ust

hed it up

of any emotion. "I heard yo

m, to ask about the photos, about Bi

as a weak "I... I just

arp with impatience. "Don't do that again. It's disrupti

ne wen

blankly through the windshield. The last, fl