Tyler found the whole idea genuinely repulsive and went to set the sketch back down but a stray glance stopped him. The drawings were covered in revisions, layered corrections, clearly evolved through drafts. Nothing about it read as copied. It looked like original development.
"No way..."
Could it actually be true, those bestselling Cross Group pieces, the ones he'd personally credited Cassandra for saving had come from Eleanor the whole time?
Tyler filed the question away, unresolved, and found his usual dislike of her had thinned out slightly.
Eleanor came to hungover, head splitting, memory in fragments.
She opened her eyes to find herself in her own bed, fully dressed.
Nothing pointed to anything having gone wrong the night before small mercy but sobriety brought its own fresh w
