Chapter 4

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of my new Chelsea apartment.

Two bedrooms, exposed brick, and no memory of Julian in any corner.

I sat at the small wooden table with a hot cup of black coffee, my laptop open.

My phone didn't ring.

For the first time in ten years, there were no emergency calls from Julian about supply chain delays, no panicked texts about investor decks.

Across town, in our old suburban home, the morning was far louder.

Julian stood at the kitchen window, holding a porcelain mug.

Hailey was leaning against the marble island in…