And it’s not just a grin—it’s an event. A perfect curve of amusement and self-assurance. If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d be drafting our wedding hashtag right now. Not that Nolan Rhodes would ever look twice at me. He probably dates heiresses and mysterious women who wear dark lipstick and never cry in elevators. Like I’m about to.
My phone vibrates.
I ignore it.
“Ms. Adams...” Gaines gestures toward the door with a tight expression that screams:You’ve outstayed your welcome.
I nod again, force a smile, and walk away, spine stiff and ego bruised.
The elevator is my salvation. I jab the button, letting the curses fly.As the doors shut, I exhale, shakily. My mom’s voice echoes in my head:Adams women don’t crumble, baby. We rise.
The phone buzzes again.
Fishing it out of my bag, I glance at the screen before pressing it to my ear. “Aunt Jane?”
Her breathing is too quiet, too shaky.
“Rorie…” she starts, her voice barely a whisper. “Honey, it’s your dad. There’s been an accident…”
Everything stops.
The elevator. The city. My breath.
The walls of my world close in.
The cracked screen in my hand is a mirror of everything splitting beneath the surface.
Shattered.
Irreparable.
Changed.
CHAPTER 1
THE KEY MOMENT
NOLAN
I’ve gotfive unread texts, a blinking GroupThink notification, and an account manager hovering by my door pretending not to wait for me.
Welcome to Tuesday.
I snatch my phone off my desk and text Rishi.
If you say “synergize” at the Vanguard pitch, I’ll walk into traffic.
Can I at least leverage that walk into a brand opportunity?
I don’t respond. Instead, I push away from my desk with a quiet chuckle, adjust my tie, and head out of my office. I nod at the account manager on the way out. Timothy is his name. Or Todd. Something with a T. He trails behind, trying to keep up with my long strides.
Before I pass through the glass doors of the conference room, my phone buzzes with a message from Chloe.
Probably won’t be home until late. Meetings are running past dinner then I’m grabbing a drink w/ a friend. Call you after. <3
I stare at the message a beat longer than necessary. The <3 feels… off. Not wrong. Just—obligatory.
I’m being paranoid. Chloe’s been under pressure. She’s buried in pre-trial motions and caffeine. Her latest case has been her Everest.
