From Rags to Riches (Again)

la. It was in Leo' s "honor," a grand event to raise funds

ed from a high-end designer. Inside

ear this tonight. We need to look like a p

f the life she wanted, the man she want

it in t

tel. The air was buzzing with conversations about art, money, and phi

her face tigh

-worn leather jacket. It was a gift from her, years ago, back w

ashing. "What the hell are you wear

t a jacke

ssing me in front of everyone. There are gallery

ares. Leo, looking pale and frail i

ce trembling for effect. "Tonight is about me, about raisi

pering, looking at me with disdain. The poor, clueless

t?" I repeated,

nce approached us. He was impeccably dre

ather. A legend on Wall Street a

he shoulder, a war

onlookers. "I was wondering where you were hiding. Your mother to

rocking that old jacket, I see.

led me

their faces a mask of pure shock. The

in, Ethan

ced by a desperate, cloying sweetness. "Ethan, darling," she said, tryin

arm away fro

voice clear and cold for ev

pulled out a folded piece of

ed it

art' for the past seven years," I said. "Three hundred and seventy-fo

ed our engagem

es rolled back in his head, and he cru

dropping the bank state

pisode." How

's one way to make an exit. And an entrance." He put his arm around my shoul