Nova
One Tuesday, I managed to ditch an Amelia-mandated lunch to actually meet up with Vera. We grabbed a quick coffee near the financial district, and I desperately needed the reality check.
"So, you're officially Mrs. I-Own-New-York now," Vera said, taking a sip of her latte and looking utterly unimpressed by the tall, intimidating glass buildings surrounding us. "Are the golden handcuffs comfortable?"
"They're mostly just cold," I admitted, looking down. "He's gone all the time, Vera. He’s buried under work, and honestly, the only person I think he talks to is his assistant. And Tanya."
I told her about the two a.m. call, keeping my voice low. Her eyebrows shot up. "Girl, that's not a corporate crisis. That's a 'cover your tracks' call. Tanya is clearly still pulling strings."
"I d
