ELENA
"Forty thousand," Maya said.
"I know."
"It was forty thousand at midnight. It's two hundred and twenty thousand now and it's eight in the morning."
I put down my coffee.
Maya was at my office door with her tablet and the specific expression she got when something was too big to play down and too complicated to celebrate.
"Show me," I said.
She handed me the tablet.
The photo was not what I had expected when Dom said there was a photo. I had expected something clean and composed — husband and wife at a charity event, appropriately positioned.
This was not that.
In the photo Dom was behind me, hand at my back, turned slightly toward Sienna. But his face — the close shot had caught the exact right moment, the one second where the controlled public face was completely gone. Wha
