The city lights of Manhattan were still glowing when Logan Reed stepped out of the Plaza Hotel. The collar of his tailored coat turned up against the early morning chill. He smelled of champagne and Sabrina’s perfume. A sweet, dangerous scent that still clung to his skin. For a brief moment, he felt invincible.
The deal he had just secured, the woman on his arm, the luxury suite they fed, the illusion that nothing in his life could fall apart. Not tonight. He unlocked his Mercedes S-Class, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. His iPhone lit up with a dozen missed calls, but he didn’t bother checking. He assumed it was Madison worrying again.
“Pregnant women always worried,” he told himself. And he was tired of being the husband who had to reassure her. By the time he reached their Upper Westside apartment, the sun was rising, casting a pale gold light through the glass lobby. He took the private elevator up, expecting Madison to burst into tears or demand an explanation for why he hadn’t come home.
He rehearsed excuses, halftruths, and the classic line, “It was a work dinner. You’re overreacting again.” But the apartment was silent. Too silent. He walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie, annoyed already, until he saw something that made his pulse jolt. There on the marble counter lay Madison’s Cardier diamond earrings.
