Ironwood released the first twelve million to NexoCloud on schedule, exactly as the contract required, and Jonathan mistook the disbursement for a rescue and threw himself a celebration.

That evening he took Florence and a young woman named Brielle to an expensive restaurant in the financial district, and by an unkind coincidence they spotted me dining alone at a quiet table by the window.

Florence pointed at my dress and laughed loudly enough for the tables nearby.

“Look at her — already found another rich man to buy her clothes.” Jonathan sauntered over with a smirk.

“Brielle here comes from a very prominent real-estate family,” he informed me.