The sharp, flat smash of the glass still echoed in the quiet room when my mother and Margaret looked up. By the time their eyes cut toward the noise, the space behind the pillar was empty. I dashed through the heavy glass doors and into the cold city air before they could see me.
They didn't see me leave. And they didn't see Tamara, either. She had slipped into the dark just moments before, leaving the two older women alone with their cold wine and closed mouths.
The drive back to the penthouse blurred with streetlights and headlights. My eyes ached from the bright lights. I didn't turn on the radio. I gripped the steering wheel hard, my knuckles turning white. The weight of everything I’d heard felt like iron in my chest. The switch at the pharmacy. The video of Julian and me in the dre
