Chapter 9 — The Return

At half past eleven, Darcy’s sleek black Mercedes pulled up in front of my condominium building.

From the sidewalk I could hear it already — the raucous noise of the party five floors above, the laughter of dozens of Vance relatives packed into my living room, all of them cheerfully awaiting the enormous banquet that their obedient, invisible daughter-in-law was supposed to be, at that very moment, frantically plating.

I was not, any longer, wearing the grease-stained sweatpants they were expecting.

I had changed, in Darcy’s office, into a bespoke navy-blue power suit, cut to fit me perfectly, and a pair of four-inch heels that made me stand a head taller than the woman who had lain on that kitchen floor twelve hours before.

And I did not go up alone.