Quite a few faces here already knew me.
Some recognized me as the face of Therapyne—the strong woman rising from the darkness of oppression into the light of greatness; the symbol of every woman's collective strength in New York and across the world, as the billboards claimed. A wall standing against domestic abuse—if only that were true.
Others, the insufferable ones, knew me as the banished daughter of the Ramirez family, the woman with a failed marriage trying to seize another spotlight—as I supposedly did with my divorce. The thought was so absurd I almost laughed.
As for those who didn't know me? They either lived far from New York or simply didn't own a television.
Theo and Christine would always step in to steer the conversation away whenever someone dared mention my f
