a P
odical conversion. Stocks he had signed over to me were sold off in small, untraceable increments. The boutique hotel downtown was transferred into a holding company controlled by my mo
et appraiser. Yesterday, I sold it to a private international buyer through a proxy. The money
sensed my withdrawal. He gathered his inner circle-his Consigliere, Marc Chen, and his most t
ces from the wives and the smirks shared between the men. Their complicity was a poison in the air
layed the part of the doting husband, bringing me drinks, touching my arm, his actions a performance for his men. I wasn't a pe
shades of orange and purple, a familiar wave of exhaustion washe
o Liam, the lie tasting like ash.
in conversation with Marc. "Fine," h
lmost made me dizzy. I was utterly alone. And for the first t
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