Chapter 2 2

The scent hit her before he finished speaking.

It was gardenia. Heavy, cloying, sweet. It was the perfume Katina Bartlett had worn since she was nineteen. It clung to Keyon's wool coat, radiating off him in waves, filling the space between them.

Elodie stood up. Her eyes locked on his collar.

There, stark against the crisp white starch of his shirt, was a smudge of red. It wasn't a subtle transfer. It was a deliberate mark.

Keyon saw her looking. He didn't flinch. He rubbed his temple with two fingers, his face twisting into a grimace of exhaustion.

"Don't look at me like that, Elodie," he said, walking past her toward the wet bar. "It was just a business dinner. The investors were clingy."

"Business," Elodie repeated. Her voice was raspy.

"Yes. Business." Keyon poured himself a water. "Something you wouldn't understand."

Elodie didn't move to take his coat. She didn't ask if he was hungry. She reached down to the coffee table and picked up the blue folder.

She slid it across the marble surface. It made a dry, rasping sound.

Keyon glanced at it over the rim of his glass. "What is this? Did Mrs. Lee quit? Or is this a new menu for the week?"

"It's divorce papers," Elodie said. "I've already signed them."

Keyon froze. The glass stopped halfway to his mouth. He blinked, processing the words, and then a short, incredulous laugh escaped his lips.

"Divorce papers?" He set the glass down, a little too hard. Water sloshed over the rim. "Elodie, really? Is this the new strategy? Threatening to leave to get me to pay attention to you?"

"I'm not threatening," she said. "I'm leaving."

"Because I came home late?" Keyon shook his head, looking at her with pity. "You are being hysterical. Go take a Xanax and go to sleep."

"I hope you and Katina are happy," Elodie said. "You don't have to plan secret galas anymore. You can take her out in public."

Keyon's face darkened instantly. The amusement vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp anger.

"You've been spying on me?" he accused, stepping closer. He towered over her, using his height as a weapon.

"I didn't have to spy. You left your iPad on the table. It synced."

"I don't have time for this jealousy," Keyon snapped. "I have a company to run. I have real problems."

"Not anymore," Elodie said. She bent down and picked up the canvas bag.

Keyon watched her lift the cheap bag. His eyes narrowed.

"If you walk out that door," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "I will cut you off. The trust fund. The credit cards. The driver. Everything stops the second you cross that threshold."

Elodie slung the bag over her shoulder. "Do it."

"You won't last a week in this city," Keyon sneered. "You have no skills. You have no job. You have nothing without the Schneider name."

"I'll take my chances."

She walked around him.

Keyon stepped in front of her, blocking the path to the foyer. "Read the prenup, Elodie. If you leave, you get nothing. Not a dime. I will make sure you starve."

Elodie looked up at him. For the first time in three years, she didn't see a god. She saw a man with a stain on his collar and fear in his eyes.

"I don't need your money, Keyon," she said softly. "Save it. Katina has expensive taste in handbags."

She stepped around him. He didn't grab her. He was too shocked.

Elodie pulled open the heavy mahogany door. The cold night air rushed in, biting at her exposed face.

"Don't come crawling back when you realize you can't pay for a subway ticket!" Keyon shouted after her.

Elodie didn't turn around. She pulled the door shut behind her.

Boom.

The sound echoed through the massive house.

Inside, Keyon stood alone in the foyer. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic rhythm he couldn't explain. It was just a tantrum. She would be back by breakfast.

Outside, Elodie walked.

The driveway was a quarter-mile long. The wind cut through her thin jacket, but she didn't stop. She walked until she reached the public road.

She pulled out her phone and opened the Uber app. She didn't call the private service. She ordered a Toyota Camry.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the back seat of a car that smelled of pine air freshener and stale cigarettes.

"Where to?" the driver asked. He was an older man with a thick accent.

"Midtown," Elodie said. "The Sterling."

Her phone buzzed in her hand. A notification from the bank.

ALERT: Supplementary Card ending in 4098 has been suspended by Primary Account Holder.

He hadn't even waited five minutes.

Elodie didn't panic. She didn't cry. She placed her thumb on the banking app and switched profiles.

The screen refreshed. The interface changed from the joint Chase account to a secure, encrypted dashboard.

Account: Swiss Credit Union / Holder: Solaris

Balance: 1,540,000,000 CHF

The number stretched across the screen, a ten-figure sum accumulated from early Bitcoin investments and the silent licensing fees of her algorithms. It was enough to buy the Schneider estate ten times over.

She closed the app.

She opened her contacts. She scrolled to "Husband."

She tapped Edit. She deleted the word "Husband" and typed Keyon Schneider.

Then she tapped Block Caller.

Back at the estate, Keyon kicked the trash can in the living room. It clattered against the wall, spilling its contents.

A crumpled ball of glossy paper rolled across the carpet. It was the ultrasound photo.

Keyon glanced at it, assumed it was a receipt or a tissue, and stepped over it.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Arlen.

"Cancel her cards," Keyon barked into the phone. "And tell security at the gate that if she tries to come back tonight, she is not to be admitted. Let her sleep on the street."

In the back of the Uber, Elodie watched the sun begin to bleed over the horizon, painting the Manhattan skyline in shades of bruised purple and gold.

She took a deep breath. It hurt, but the air was hers.