Vanessa’s POV
Morning light spilled across the marble floors in long, pale strips. It hit the rim of her untouched coffee cup, the steam was long gone, and the surface looked cold.
Vanessa sat on the edge of the sofa, perfectly still, her reflection fractured in the black screen of the TV. Her silk robe hung loosely from one shoulder, the tie loose at her waist. She hadn’t bothered to fix it. There was no one to impress anymore.
The city stretched far below her, a restless echo of sound and motion. From up here, it all looked manageable, contained and small. Just like she liked it.
Only lately, she hadn’t felt in control of much.
Her gaze landed on the framed photograph sitting crooked on the side table, one of her old campaigns, back when she was the face every magazine wanted. She r
