She accepted them without pretending silence had been harmless.
When the event ended, Paul brought the Escalade to the curb.
He stepped out and opened the rear door.
Isabelle paused.
Then she smiled and walked around to the front passenger side.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
Paul smiled back.
“Not at all, Mrs.
Anderson.”
She settled into the front seat, not because it was more important than the back, but because the choice was hers.
As they pulled away, Manhattan shone across the wet pavement exactly as it had the year before.
The city had not changed.
The difference was that Isabelle no longer mistook being tolerated for being loved, or silence for peace, or someone else’s confidence for power.
Mark had placed her behind him because he believed she would remain wherever he left her.
Instead, she stepped out of the car, opened a folder, and took her life back with both hands.
