Chapter 1 - The Charcoal Coat
Emily did not push the frosted glass door open. She did not scream, and she did not cry.
Instead, she carefully draped James’s charcoal wool coat over the brass handle of the private room. She smoothed the lapels, leaving it perfectly centered, a silent, damning receipt of her presence. Then, she turned her back on the laughter and walked down the carpeted hallway, her steps completely silent.
When she slid into the back of the black sedan, the snow was still falling.
Joe looked at her through the rearview mirror. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He had driven James for five years. He knew where James went when Emily thought he was working late.
"Take me to the Kane Meridian office, Joe," Emily said, her voice entirely stripped of emotion.
Joe didn't ask questions. He didn't offer empty apologies. He simply put the car in drive. "Yes, Ms. Miller."
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As they drove through the quiet, snow-covered streets of Manhattan, Emily felt the warmth of her love for James completely die. In its place, a freezing, surgical clarity took over. James was right about one thing: she had spent ten years making sure he was comfortable. She had built the safety nets that allowed him to play the visionary.
He had just forgotten who held the scissors.
