Cruz took Harley everywhere now.
I knew because Vanessa forwarded me the photos. Cruz at the Morgan Stanley benefit. Cruz at the Museum of Modern Art opening. Cruz and Harley on Page Six, her hand on his arm, both of them smiling like they'd won something.
In every photo, Cruz looked the same. Confident. Proud. Like a man who'd finally gotten everything right.
I studied the pictures in my small apartment and felt nothing. Not anger. Not grief. Just the quiet hum of a clock ticking down.
The Manhattan Children's Foundation gala was the kind of event where everyone who mattered showed up. Black tie. Silent auction. A ballroom at the Plaza with chandeliers that cost more than most people's houses. I'd been on the host committee for three years. My name was still on the invitation, printed in small letters at the bottom.
I hadn't planned to go.
Then Vanessa called.
"Harley's going," she said. "With Cruz. She's been telling everyone she's pregnant."
I was quiet for a moment.
"Tiana?"
"I'm going," I said.
"Good." Vanessa's voice was sharp with satisfaction. "Wear something devastating."
I didn't wear something devastating. I wore a simple black dress. No jewelry except small diamond studs. Hair pulled back. I looked like a woman who had nothing to prove.
I arrived alone.
The ballroom was full. Hundreds of people in evening wear, holding champagne, laughing too loud. I moved through the crowd quietly. A few people nodded at me. Most looked away. Divorce was awkward for people like this. They didn't know which side to take, so they took neither.
I didn't care.
I was halfway to the bar when I saw them.
Cruz in a tuxedo, his hand on Harley's lower back. Harley in a gown that must have cost fifteen thousand dollars, her hair swept up, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach. She was glowing. Radiant. Playing the part perfectly.
They were surrounded by a small crowd. People I recognized. Investors. Socialites. Cruz's business partners. Everyone smiling. Everyone congratulating them.
I stopped walking.
For a moment, I just watched. Cruz laughed at something someone said. Harley leaned into him, her hand still on her belly, the picture of maternal contentment. They looked happy. They looked like they belonged together.
I turned toward the bar.
I didn't make it three steps.
"Tiana!"
Harley's voice. Bright. Delighted. Loud enough that people turned.
I stopped. Took a breath. Turned around.
She was walking toward me, one hand on her stomach, the other reaching out like we were old friends. Cruz followed a step behind, his face unreadable.
"Tiana," Harley said again, stopping in front of me. Her smile was wide. Warm. Absolutely poisonous. "I didn't know you'd be here. How are you?"
People were watching now. A circle forming. I could feel their eyes.
"I'm fine," I said.
Harley's hand moved in a slow circle over her belly. A deliberate gesture. Making sure I saw. Making sure everyone saw.
"I'm so glad," she said softly. "I was worried about you. After everything." She paused, her eyes wide and sincere. "I hope there are no hard feelings. Cruz and I—we just couldn't fight it anymore. You understand, don't you?"
The room was very quiet.
I looked at her. Really looked at her. The girl I'd sent to university. The girl who'd written me thank-you notes. The girl who was now standing in front of me, pregnant with my husband's child, performing concern.
"I understand," I said.
Harley's smile faltered for just a second. She'd expected something else. Tears, maybe. Anger. Something she could use.
Cruz stepped forward. His jaw was tight. "Tiana. You shouldn't be here."
I turned to him. The man I'd loved. The man who'd bled for me on a sidewalk. The stranger wearing his face.
"I'm on the host committee," I said quietly. "My name is on the invitation."
"It's uncomfortable," Cruz said. His voice had that edge. That tone he used when he was explaining something obvious to someone slow. "For everyone."
I held his gaze. Said nothing.
Harley made a small sound. A gasp. Her hand flew to her stomach and her face went pale. "Oh—"
Cruz turned immediately. "Harley?"
"I just—" She swayed slightly. Cruz caught her arm. "I felt dizzy. I'm sorry. I just—seeing Tiana, I didn't expect—"
"It's okay." Cruz's arm went around her waist, steadying her. Protective. His eyes cut back to me, and now there was something harder in them. "You need to go."
The crowd was watching. Waiting. I could feel their judgment shifting. Poor Harley. Poor pregnant Harley, upset by the bitter ex-wife.
I looked at Cruz. At Harley, leaning into him with her eyes half-closed. At the performance they were giving.
I smiled.
Not a big smile. Just a small curve at the corner of my mouth. The kind of smile that said I knew something they didn't.
"Feel better, Harley," I said.
Then I turned and walked away.
Behind me, I heard Cruz murmuring to her. Heard the crowd closing in, concerned and sympathetic. Heard Harley's soft, shaky voice saying she was fine, she just needed air.
I walked to the bar and ordered a drink.
Vanessa appeared at my elbow two minutes later. "That was restrained."
"It was necessary," I said.
She looked at me. "When?"
I took a sip of my drink. Across the ballroom, Cruz was guiding Harley toward the exit, his hand on her back, his face set in that particular expression of a man dealing with a crisis.
I thought about the documents on my desk. The proxies. The patents. The quiet, methodical architecture of everything Ace and I had built.
"Soon," I said.
Vanessa smiled. It was not a kind smile.
I finished my drink and set the glass down. Then I walked out of the Plaza into the cold October night, alone, and I felt lighter than I had in months.
The stage was ready.
It was almost time.
