It didn’t always used to be like this.
Before Bibi had steamrolled her way out of me, we’d had a very different life. We were very different people. We weren’t always fucking tired, we were always fucking fabulous. London’s best restaurants always had a table for us. Our names were top of the invite lists for the parties to remember. We were the life and soul, shining bright in the spotlights, spinning across dance floors. It didn’t end there. We soaked up the glitz and the glamour of everything Europe had to offer. Five-star hotels. Yachts. Private jets. Total carefree abandonment, and a full focus on the pursuit of pleasure. For the haters who might call it a shallow life, it was not one without meaning—we fitted it all in while eliminating men who didn’t deserve to walk this earth. Partying and purging. They went together hand in hand.
Then parenthood hit, and we went from being at the top of the Michelin-starred food chain to eating leftover fishfingers and lights out by 10 p.m.
I missed it. But I was too tired to do anything about it.
Family life was overwhelming.
Fox might have been physically here day and night, but I felt alone in this. I wanted him to share with me everything he was going through, but that privilege seemed to be reserved for sodding Sally. I just got to see him sleepwalking through our life together and not pulling his weight. I kept waiting for him to crackand blitz the mess in this house. The old Fox wouldn’t have been able to live like this. He’d have been scrubbing the floors, boxing up the mess, reorganizing the fridge. Not shuffling downstairs in his dressing gown and shrugging his shoulders. This Fox could only focus on himself, his body, his mind, his thoughts. He couldn’t stop to look around and fix everything else.
On the kitchen countertop was the pile of post I’d brought in yesterday. I picked up theVogueas a card fluttered onto the table. The image on it was of three men wearing black masks and red tunics, several oranges flying through the air toward them. A matching postcard was already pinned to the fridge. I turned this one over and read the message.
I got to my feet, gripping the card.
Fox.
I stopped myself. More information was needed before I got his head a-spinning again. I reached for my phone.
Chapter Nine
Fox
I woke to the shrillrattle of curtains opening and light blasting into the bedroom.
“Why?” I howled.
“Get up!” I felt the bed wobble as my beloved wife jumped on it. I kept my eyes shut.
“Now, Fox!” shouted another voice I knew all too well.
I struggled to sit up and opened my eyes.
Jenny and Haze were on either side of me.
“You know, we should talk more about boundaries, Jen.”
She laughed. “I have a key to your house, and every username and password for all your accounts and devices. What boundaries?”
I pulled up the duvet. Was I being paranoid, or did that sound a little chilling?
Haze handed me the Ivrea postcard from the fridge. I took it from her. “Why do—”
“Turn it over.”
We warned you. We’re watching.
A new postcard. A new threat. My constant worries were valid. They were coming for us again.
I looked between the two women. “Clark was a random English finance guy. Why would they care?”
Jenny shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense. I ran due diligence on Clark, and he has no ties to anyone from that world. Apart from his crimes against his wife, he was squeaky clean.”
“Maybe it’s just an empty threat? They just want to keep us on our toes?” I was reaching. Wanting to believe anything other than the clear truth.
Haze and Jenny looked at each other.
Jenny took a deep breath. “I’ve done some checks. The Chameleon got to England a few days ago.”
