“We have some news regarding Sloane Vale,” Margaret said as she steered through the traffic.

“Her business is officially shuttered.”

“The state licensing board suspended her interior design credentials yesterday morning.”

“The bank accounts for Vale Concepts have been liquidated to pay back the trust.”

I looked out the window at the passing shops.

“Did she try to run?” I asked.

“She tried to board a flight to Miami,” Margaret said.

“The authorities stopped her at the gate.”

“She is currently out on bail, but she has no money, no clients, and no career left.”

“Her landlords have already evicted her from her studio downtown.”

We pulled up to the curb of my building.

The brick facade of the penthouse building looked grand and permanent.

The doorman, an older man named Joseph, smiled when he saw me.

“Welcome home, ma’am,” he said, holding the heavy glass door open.

“We are glad to have you back.”

I carried the car seat into the elevator.

The ride up to the penthouse was quiet.

When the elevator doors opened directly into the foyer, the smell of fresh paint hit me.