Bella didn’t let Julian know she was going.
She departed early, while the city was still half-asleep and the sky rinsed pale with morning light. The doors to the penthouse clicked shut softly behind her, and for the first time since arriving it felt almost like relief.
Space.
That morning, she had worked from a communal creative space inside a converted warehouse in Brooklyn, where long tables lined the walls and the murmuring hum of concentrated energy felt like it emanated from all directions even as it pressed close to her. Designers, photographers, writers — individuals pursuing things that were meaningful to them. No penthouse. No gossip. No conditions attached to someone else’s name.
She signed in, took a desk by the window and opened her laptop.
For hours, she worked.
Really w
