That worked for exactly three weeks. Then Ledger walked into my presentation, and everything I’d buried came roaring back.
I went home that night, five days ago, and tried to search for a hidden voice memo that apparently doesn’t exist. The voice memos told me nothing about the wedding. Nothing about him. Just the betrayal and the trip.
Which means I have no idea what happened after I got to Vegas. No explanation for how I ended up married.
I’m sitting on my balcony now, trying to calm down. My new apartment is nice, nicer than anywhere I’ve lived. Two bedrooms, modern kitchen, a view of the city.
Company housing. Provided by Kryla Holdings.
Provided by Ledger.
My husband owns this building. Owns the company I work for. Owns probably half the city.
The balcony door to my left slides open, and my neighbor steps out. She’s older, maybe early forties, and always friendly when we pass in the hallway.
“Evening,” she says, holding a glass of wine. “Mind if I join you?”
“Go ahead.”
She settles into the chair next to mine. “I’m Julia, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”
“Savannah.”
“You just moved in a few weeks ago, right?”
“Yeah. New job.”
“How’s it going?”
I laugh, and it sounds bitter even to my ears. “It’s been interesting.”
“Interesting good or interesting bad?”
“Interesting complicated.”
She nods like she understands. “Men?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s always men.” She takes a sip of wine. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I look out at the city. “But thanks.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. It’s nice to have another person nearby without the pressure to explain myself.
My phone hums in my hand with a new email.
Ms. Castellanos,
You are required to accompany Mr. Volkov on a business trip to Chicago. Departure Monday, 6 AM. A driver will pick you up at your residence. Itinerary attached.
Please confirm receipt.
My hands tighten on the phone.
“Bad news?” Julia asks.
“Work trip. To my hometown.”
