Adrian was already in the corridor, jacket back on, face composed in the particular way it
goes when something large and difficult has been completed and he hasn’t decided yet what
to do with the space it leaves behind. He looked at me for a moment without saying anything.
Then: “Tonight. The penthouse.”
I nodded. I knew what that meant.
It was time to deal with Victoria.
I was not there for that part. It was not my confrontation to witness. Some things belong
to the people directly in them, and whatever remained between Adrian and Victoria belonged
to the two of them and to the wreckage of the life they had constructed together, however
false its foundation had been.
What I knew came from Daniel, who told me that evening in the precise, careful way he
delivers things he has pro
