Vivian sat in the corner booth of Sarabeth's, hiding behind oversized sunglasses. Willow, her best friend since kindergarten, slid a mimosa across the table.
"You look like you've been in a war zone," Willow said, sipping her own drink.
"I have," Vivian said. "I need to know where Julian is going this weekend."
"How would I know?" Willow asked.
"Check the tags," Vivian said, pulling out her phone. "The Hamptons season opener is this weekend. Look at the geo-tags for the Dune Club. Look for his partner, Silas Vance. Silas posts everything."
Willow scrolled for a moment. "Found him. Silas just posted a story. 'Tee time with the devil.' Location: The Dune Club, East Hampton."
Vivian smiled grimly. "Perfect."
"You're not a member," Willow pointed out. "And your dad's membership is suspended pending the audit."
"Hunter is a member," Vivian said.
An hour later, Vivian was keying herself into Hunter's Upper East Side apartment. She knew he was in London hiding from the press.
The apartment was silent. Dust sheets covered the furniture. It looked like a mausoleum.
Vivian went to the desk in the study. She rifled through the drawers. Passport, condoms, and there it was-the platinum Dune Club card.
As she grabbed it, something shiny in the wastebasket caught her eye. It was wedged between the liner and the bin itself.
She reached in. It was a diamond earring. Not hers.
Vivian stared at it. It was cheap. Flashy. Probably the nanny's.
She felt a wave of nausea, but she pushed it down. She didn't have time for heartbreak. She dropped the earring into her purse. You never threw away ammunition.
She had a golf game to crash.
That night, Vivian lay in bed at the Hamptons estate-the only property she could still access. She scrolled through photos of Julian on her iPad.
Most were professional headshots. Cold. Distant.
But she found one from ten years ago. A blurry photo from a high school yearbook. Julian was laughing, his arm around a friend. He looked human. He looked like the boy she had destroyed.
She touched the screen.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to the boy in the photo. "But I have to do this."
Outside, thunder rumbled. A storm was coming.
