Too Late For Regret, Mr. Sterling

was the same tempera

master bedroom. It blurred the lights of the distant shore, turning them into hazy, indistinct stars.

eavier tonight. Colder. A permanent, metallic reminder of a wedding three years ago with no guests, no celebration, just the sterile quiet of a judge's cha

, resonant tones counting the first second of a new day. T

ght and proud for hours,

et presence had been a fixture in the Sterling estate for decades, entered c

edge, took in her solitary figure by the window. Brenda said nothing.

rittle, practiced thing that didn't rea

renda. You di

er icy fingertips. They trembled, just slightly, a b

g face-up on the marble coffee table, lit up. The sharp, intr

icked up the phone. Her br

e was at the private terminal of JFK Airport, his tall frame acting as a shield against the wind and rain. He h

e water. She recognized that woman. Sloane Kensingto

his public, press-conference smile, all sharp angles and corporate power. This was a soft, gentle cur

ike a physical blow, a fist clenching tight around

alright?" Brenda's voi

A sharp intake of breath was her only response. She opened her mou

the impact knocked over a silver picture frame beside it. The

e one photo from

he shards of glass. Her vision was blurred by a sudden rush of

d blood welled up, then fell

hing to her side. "Don't touch it,

ain against the pristine white. She felt noth

came the low, familia

urged through her. He ca

om spin. She ignored the throbbing in her finger and rushed

ain. The driver's door opened, and

It was Caleb, his

d colder and darker than before. She sagged against the window frame, clos

polite knock echoed at

rsonal smile, holding a large, pe

ion. "Mr. Sterling sends his deepest apologies. An urgent M&A deal wit

knew. He had to know where Julian really was. The lie

that the seasoned assistant, a man who faced down corporate sharks daily

he unbearable tension. She took the box from Caleb's

ave a slight, formal bow an

It looked like a mockery. A joke at her expense. Arden walked

n. It came undone with a sof

lace. A gaudy, ostentatious piece from the brand's latest, m

was the kind of piece a man with no taste and a lot of money would buy. The kind

ss stones that represented nothing. This soulless object was the final nail in the coffin

n pain, she hurled the necklace a

b of fractures radiated from the point of impact. The

mirror. A woman with wild hair, red-rimme

other. The pain in her chest began to recede, replace

resses Julian's stylists had picked for her. In the very back, she found what she was looking for. A perfect

Her finger was still bleeding, smearing a small

t. That would be too emotional. Instead, she methodically we

or his world. It was t