The ice in my whiskey glass had melted down to nothing.

I stood in the carpeted hallway of Halstead House, the heavy oak door to the library cracked open just an inch.

Inside, the air smelled of expensive cigars, dry paper, and old leather.

“She is settling in well enough,” Elias said.

His voice was flat, completely devoid of any warmth.

“And you?” Daniel Carter asked. “How are you adjusting to the domestic life, Elias? It has been six months.”

I held my breath, my fingers tightening around the damp glass until my knuckles turned white.

“It makes no difference to me,” Elias replied.

I heard the distinct clink of a crystal decanter against a glass.

“Ava is a quiet distraction,” Elias said. “She serves her purpose for the public eye, but nothing more.”

“You don’t care that she spends half her time alone in that townhouse?” Daniel asked, his tone carrying a strange, sharp edge.

“Why should I?” Elias said. “Her feelings are irrelevant to my work. As long as she is there when the cameras are on, I do not care what she does.”

My heart pressed cold and heavy against my ribs.

I looked down at the twenty-carat diamond ring on my left hand.

It felt heavy, suddenly, like a lead weight designed to keep me anchored to his floor.

I stepped back from the door, my heels making no sound on the thick Persian rug.

I did not go back to the crowded ballroom with its crystal chandeliers and laughing guests.

I walked straight out the front doors of Halstead House and into the biting October wind.

The driver was waiting by the idling black Mercedes, but I shook my head.

“I will walk, Marcus,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He looked confused, his hand resting on the silver door handle, but he bowed his head.

I turned my coat collar up against the chill and walked toward the Upper East Side.

The pavement was damp from an earlier rain, reflecting the yellow glow of the streetlights.

The townhouse was dark when I finally arrived.