Clara followed me, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

We stepped into the elevator together.

The mirrored doors slid shut, hiding the sight of Daniel sitting alone in his glass tower.

The elevator descended quickly, the numbers on the display counting down to zero.

“Where will you go now?” Clara asked as we reached the lobby.

“To my studio on Wabash,” I said.

“It is a small place,” Clara said. “Cold in the winter.”

“It has north-facing light,” I said. “That is all I need.”

The elevator doors opened to the lobby.

The security guard looked up, surprised to see me leaving with my bag.

“Have a good night, Mrs. Hayes,” he said.

“My name is Emily Carter,” I said.

He blinked, then nodded slowly. “Goodnight, Ms. Carter.”

I walked out of the building and into the cool, wet air of the Chicago night.

The rain was beginning to clear, leaving the streets black and shining under the streetlights.

I did not call a cab.

I walked the six blocks to Wabash Avenue, my boots splashing in the puddles on the pavement.