“My driver is downstairs,” he said.
Genevieve pressed the elevator button.
“I’m taking the subway.”
He nodded.
“May I walk with you?”
The doors opened.
She stepped inside and held them for him.
“Yes.”
Outside, the city moved around them without pausing to admire wealth or witness revenge.
Genevieve breathed the cold air, adjusted the strap of her bag, and chose the direction.
This time, the man beside her did not decide the route.
He simply kept pace.
