New Year's Eve arrived like a reckoning.
The city was electric—lights strung across every street, champagne flutes ready in every apartment, the sense that something was ending and something else was about to begin. The penthouse was no exception. Adrian had hired a caterer. A DJ. Someone to hang decorations that sparkled like diamonds.
"You're throwing a party?" I asked, staring at the chaos.
"We're throwing a party."
"I didn't agree to this."
"You didn't say no."
"That's not how consent works."
Adrian kissed my forehead. "Too late. People are already on their way."
---
The guest list was smaller than I expected.
Ms. Vane, of course. Eleanor, who'd RSVP'd with a hesitant "if I'm welcome." My mother, who'd insisted on wearing sequins again. A few of Adrian's board members who'd s
