"I almost didn't recognize you without your pathetic little assistant glasses, Claire."
Julianna Vance’s shrill, razor-thin voice cut through the scented air of L’Amour Privé. She smoothed the lapels of her crimson designer coat, her glossy red lips curving into a sneer as her eyes raked over my tailored clothes, my bare face, and the towering stack of shopping bags held silently by Adrian behind me.
Beside her stood Ethan.
My chest tightened for half a second before a cold, iron absolute calm washed over me. The last time I had seen Ethan, he was standing in our former apartment, trying to convince me that his five years of financial parasitic leeching and subsequent infidelity were somehow the result of my failures.
Today, he looked smaller. He stood a half-step behind Julianna, wea
