Walking out of Charles Sterling’s office was an act of pure, terrifying freedom. For a few seconds, the world held its breath. The plush carpet absorbed the sound of her steps, the hushed chatter from the bullpen was a distant murmur. She was a ghost floating through the gilded cage she’d just unlocked.
Then, the consequences began to land.
Her phone buzzed before she even reached her office. It was her mother. Eleanor Reed’s voice, usually a study in modulated social grace, was sharp with a panic Evelyn had only heard once before—when her father left.
“Evelyn. Charles Sterling just called me.” The words were an indictment. “What in God’s name have you done? He said you’re involved in some… some sordid mess with that tradesman architect, and that you’re being difficult. He said your par
