I waited until the nurse was occupied in the kitchen and the housekeeper was upstairs in the linens. My heart felt like a trapped bird beating against my ribs as I slipped into a simple trench coat to hide the cast. I didn't call the driver. I couldn't. Every mile he drove would be logged, every destination reported back to Jason’s phone in a neat, digital notification.
I took the service elevator down to the basement of the building, slipping out through the delivery entrance like a shadow. The humidity of the New York street hit me like a physical blow, but the air—free of sandalwood and lilies—felt like oxygen to a drowning woman. I hailed a yellow cab three blocks away, keeping my head down and my voice low.
When the taxi pulled up to the curb of the Madison Avenue boutique, I practi
