Chapter 2

"It’s a separation agreement, and... a strict NDA." Alex’s voice dropped, laced with a counterfeit regret. "The board is putting immense pressure on me, Isa. Hawke Capital is overleveraged. We need liquidity. You know the market climate—the Fed is about to hike rates. Without a strategic alliance, the Hawke family won't survive the winter."

"So, you’re getting engaged to Olivia Winters." Isabella stated it as a fact, her tone devoid of ripples.

Alex faltered, clearly unprepared for her directness. "Yes. The Winters family might be... fading industrially, but they are classic 'Old Money.' Their family trust can inject the cash flow we desperately need, and she can get me past the co-op boards of the Upper East Side. It’s purely a commercial decision, Isa. You know how I feel about you, but..."

"But feelings can’t service the debt on a leveraged buyout, nor can they secure an interview at 740 Park Avenue," Isabella finished for him.

Alex exhaled, seemingly relieved she was being so "sensible." He pointed to the envelope. "There’s a check for fifty thousand dollars inside. I know it barely covers a year’s rent in Manhattan, but it’s enough to buy a car back in Ohio, or rent a nice one-bedroom in Queens to start over. As long as you sign, and promise never to disclose our... private relationship of the last five years to the media."

Fifty thousand dollars. To buy out five years of her life, and everything she had done as the shadow strategist behind Hawke Capital. It wouldn't even buy Olivia Winters two Birkin bags.

Just then, a commotion erupted at the restaurant entrance. A cloud of Chanel No. 5 arrived before the person did, followed by a woman in an oatmeal-colored Loro Piana cashmere coat and oversized Celine sunglasses.

Olivia Winters. The "Princess and the Pea" of the Manhattan social circuit, a socialite with nothing but a surname and a trust fund. She never took the subway, didn't know how to use Uber, and her mental map of the world was bounded by Madison Avenue and the Hamptons.

"Oh god, why is it so crowded? The air down here literally smells poor." Olivia removed her sunglasses, scanning the restaurant with critical disdain until her eyes landed on Isabella, looking at her as if she were gum stuck to the sole of a Jimmy Choo heel. "Alex, is this your... little assistant from the cornfields?"