The Price of Indifference and the Fall of Elias King
“Tomorrow at ten,” I said.
“Good luck, Ava,” Daniel said.
He slid out of the booth and walked out into the rain, leaving his cold coffee behind.
***
The offices of King Enterprises occupied the top three floors of a glass tower in midtown.
The air inside was quiet and smelled of expensive floor wax and filtered air.
I walked past the receptionist, who gave me a nervous, tight-lipped smile.
She knew why I was here.
Everyone in the building knew the billionaire’s wife was leaving him.
I pushed open the heavy oak doors to Elias’s private office.
The room was vast, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Central Park.
Elias stood by the glass, his hands clasped behind his back.
He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that fit his lean frame perfectly.
He didn’t turn around when I entered.
“You’re late,” he said.
His voice was like dry paper.
“Only by five minutes, Elias,” I said.
I sat in one of the leather chairs opposite his massive mahogany desk.
He turned slowly, his face expressionless.
His gray eyes were cold, showing no trace of the man I had married five years ago.