The street in front of Sloane's apartment building was lined with overflowing trash cans and parked cars that had seen better decades.
A black Maybach screeched to a halt, double-parking next to a fire hydrant.
Anna had just stepped out of a yellow taxi. She was carrying a bag of groceries.
She saw the car. She saw Grayson burst out of the driver's side.
He didn't look like the Master of the Universe today. His tie was crooked. His hair was windblown. His eyes were wild.
He crossed the distance between them in three strides.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh through her coat. He shook her, hard.
"Are you insane?" he shouted. "What were you doing on the bridge?"
Anna dropped the grocery bag. A carton of milk burst on the pavement, white liquid pooling around her boots.
"Let go of me," she said. Her voice was ice.
Grayson ignored her. He was scanning her face, her body, checking for broken bones, for signs of the water. When he realized she was dry, the fear in his eyes morphed instantly into rage.
"You wanted to scare me?" he yelled, spit flying from his lips. "You wanted to ruin the launch? Is that it? You think you can threaten suicide to make me dump Jaylene?"
Anna looked at him. She felt a profound sense of exhaustion.
"I wasn't going to jump, Grayson," she said. "I was throwing away my old life. And we are done."
"Done?" He laughed. It was a manic sound. "We aren't done until I say we're done. You signed a contract. You owe the family two million dollars. You don't get to walk away."
He tightened his grip. He pulled her closer.
"You're mine," he hissed. "You're my broken little toy."
He lowered his head. He tried to kiss her.
It wasn't a kiss of affection. It was a kiss of ownership. He wanted to mark her. He wanted to remind her body who it belonged to.
His lips mashed against hers, hard and bruising. He tasted of mints and panic.
Anna felt a wave of nausea.
She remembered Felix. She remembered how he used to kiss her like she was made of glass, like she was precious.
This was violence.
She didn't freeze this time. She didn't dissociate.
She brought her knee up. Hard.
She missed his groin, but her thigh connected solidly with his hip. It was enough to make him stumble back, gasping.
Anna didn't wait. She swung her hand.
Smack.
Her palm connected with his cheek. The sound was sharp, like a pistol crack in the quiet street.
Grayson froze. He put a hand to his face. He looked at her with wide, shocked eyes. The "pet" had bitten the master.
"That," Anna said, her breath coming in short bursts, "is the termination fee. Get out of my life."
Grayson's shock darkened into something dangerous. He took a step forward, his hands curling into fists.
"Hey!"
Sloane burst out of the apartment building door. She was holding a pink canister of pepper spray with both hands, aiming it at Grayson's face.
"Back off!" Sloane screamed. "I swear to God, I will blind you!"
People on the street stopped. A teenager pulled out a phone and started recording.
Grayson saw the phone. He saw the pepper spray. He saw the milk pooling around his expensive Italian leather shoes.
The PR calculation ran through his head in a split second. Assault charges. Viral video. Stock drop.
He straightened his jacket. He smoothed his hair. He put the mask back on.
"You'll regret this, Anna," he said. His voice was low, meant only for her. "Without me, you're nothing. You'll be starving in a week. And when you come crawling back, the price is going to be double."
He turned and walked back to the Maybach. He got in and slammed the door. The car roared to life and sped away.
Anna stood on the sidewalk. Her hand was stinging. Her legs felt like jelly.
She wasn't scared. She was shaking from the adrenaline leaving her body.
Sloane ran over and wrapped her arms around her.
"Holy shit," Sloane whispered into her hair. "You did it. You actually did it."
Anna looked at the empty street where the car had been.
"I did," she said.
She looked down at the spilled milk.
"Let's go inside," Anna said. "I have work to do."
