Gina
By the time we left Mario’s coffee shop, I had stopped trying to convince myself that any part of the day could still be considered normal.
Normal women did not leave lunch with two security officers walking several feet behind them. Normal women did not have mysterious envelopes delivered to their boyfriend’s obsessive ex-girlfriend. Normal women did not stand on a sidewalk while a security director explained that someone might have been quietly studying their boyfriend’s personal life for the past ten years.
Then again, normal women probably didn’t discover that the man they had fallen for was secretly a billionaire CEO with two names, a dangerous uncle, and enough personal secrets to fill an entire filing cabinet.
My life had officially become ridiculous.
Natalie left first.
