Chapter 3

Dorian thought I had given in. He even seemed to think I had finally learned how to behave.

To celebrate Elodie officially taking over Astra Tower, he threw a party that same night, in a rooftop hotel downtown. Half the industry showed up.

I wore a long black dress and stood in a corner of the ballroom with a glass of champagne in my hand.

Someone pushed through the crowd toward me. It was Victor Ansel, the old juror whose word carried more weight in this business than anyone else's.

"Miss Ferrand." He shook my hand, clearly pleased to see me. "The structure on Astra Tower is yours, isn't it? That corner hanging out over nothing. I went back and looked at it three times. Nobody else in this city would have dared to draw it that way."

Before I could answer, Dorian came over smiling and put a hand on my shoulder.

"You're thinking of someone else, Mr. Ansel. My wife stopped drawing years ago. She takes care of things at home now."

Elodie took his other arm. Her voice went soft. "Astra is mine. Margot looked over a few of the details for me. I'm very grateful to her."

Victor Ansel paused. He looked at her, then back at me.

I didn't explain. I just watched the confusion on his face turn into politeness. He said, "My mistake, then," and walked away.

Dorian let go of my shoulder and lowered his voice. "Don't sulk. Tonight is Elodie's night."

I went to the restroom. When I came out, Elodie was waiting for me, leaning against the wall in the hallway with half a glass of wine swinging in her hand. Every trace of that nervous little act was gone.

"Margot." She smiled at me. "You've been very quiet tonight."

I ignored her and kept walking.

"I heard you were in a car accident," she said behind me. "Poor thing."

I stopped.

"Dor told me about it." She came closer, taking her time. "He was going to the hospital that night, you know. He had the car out front already."

"I'm the one who stopped him."

"I told him I was scared of the thunder."

I turned around and looked at her. There was no fear on her face at all. There was only the relief of someone who had finally gotten to say it out loud.

"So he stayed," she said. "He kept me company for three nights."

From my hospital room to that house was a twenty-minute drive.

Three nights. He had been twenty minutes away the whole time.

I looked at her, and all at once I wasn't angry anymore. "Thank you for telling me," I said.

That stopped her cold. I walked around her and went back into the ballroom.

Onstage, Dorian had an arm around Elodie's shoulders and the microphone in his other hand.

"Thank you all for coming out for Elodie tonight. She is an enormously talented designer, and Astra Tower is going to become this city's new landmark in her hands."

The room broke into applause.

He raised his glass, looked around the room, and let his eyes land on my corner of it.

"And thank you to my wife. She's spent all these years at home, quietly supporting me. The luckiest thing that can happen to a man is marrying a woman who never gives him any trouble."

Every head in the room turned toward me. They clapped, politely. Somebody nearby said, under their breath, "Halloway's a lucky man."

I held on to my glass and smiled back at them.

Five years ago, my name in this business was Margot Ferrand.

That night, my name was "a woman who never gives him any trouble."

Elodie leaned into him, playing shy, but her eyes were working the crowd until they found mine. Then she lifted her chin at me.

I finished the last of my champagne, set the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray, turned around, and walked to the elevator.

Back at the house we had filled with lies, packing took me ten minutes.

I didn't take a single thing Dorian had bought me, not the clothes, not the jewelry. I left every card he'd given me on the counter. What went into the suitcase was my passport, a few old clothes, my sketchbooks, one hard drive, and the certificate that said I was licensed to sign drawings.

I put the little black-and-white ultrasound photo in the inside pocket and zipped it shut.

Then I went to the dining table and took out the papers I'd had ready for days.

Divorce agreement.

I gave up every claim to the property. I didn't even ask for the firm I had built myself.

My lawyer had gone through the merger contract I signed three years ago and found a clause in it. As long as I walked away with any of this family's money, I couldn't go work for a competitor.

So I wouldn't take a cent. Without the money, the clause was worthless.

I picked up a pen, signed my name on the last page, then slid the ring off my finger and set it down on top of the signature.

The ring stayed. The photo came with me.

I pulled the suitcase to the door, opened it, and walked out into the cold Boston rain.

At two in the morning, Dorian came home smelling like a bar.

"Margot, get me a glass of water," he called out, the way he always did.

Nobody answered.

He frowned, walked into the dining room, and saw the papers on the table. Then he saw what they were, and he saw the ring lying on top of them, and that sobered him up in a hurry.

He yanked out his phone and called my number. It didn't ring once.

"We're sorry. The wireless customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try your call again later."

A cold recorded voice, echoing through an empty living room.