Page 161 of Dial F for Finance

“All right,” Audrey says. “We need to establish a baseline. When was the last time you slept for more than four continuous hours? And follow-up: have you eaten anything today that wasn’t primarily fueled by spite or panic?”

“I’m fine,” I say automatically, sitting on the edge of the armchair. But the lie tastes like ash, and with their combined stares, my armor finally dissolves completely. I look down at my hands. The rings are still around my left ring finger, Dominic’s on the middle finger of my right. I can’t bring myself to take them off. Just like I can’t bring myself to sign my own name to those papers.

I look up again. “I’m not fine. I resigned from a job I love. Moved back into my childhood bedroom. And I just found out . . .” I swallow, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. “. . . I just found out Dominic came here. To Queens. He helped my mother get sober, and he never told me.”

Serena leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. The commanding PR executive vanishes, replaced entirely by the fiercely protective friend. “Of course he didn’t tell you, Jenna. Dominic Cruz doesn’t do things for the credit. He does them because he loves you. Do you think any of the guys asked him to help them get to where they are today? No way. They’re all too proud to accept help. And Dominic is too proud to accept praise. He just gives to the people he cares about with open hands, and he doesn’t care what the personal cost is.”

“Except maybe this time,” Audrey points out, and Layla jabs her lightly with her elbow. “What? I’m just saying, the personal cost was Jenna and that’s pretty big.”

“Oh my God, Aud. We know,” Layla puts in. “We all know he went too far this time.”

“Which is kind of another reason we’re sitting on this couch,” Serena adds.

“What do you mean?” I suddenly sit up straighter.

“First of all,” Audrey says. “We need to make it clear that you’re an integral part of our ecosystem, Jenna.” She taps her pen against the notepad. “You don’t get to just unplug yourself from the server and expect the rest of the network not to notice.”

“That means we’re your friends no matter what,” Layla translates.

“I appreciate that,” I say, genuinely meaning it.

Ma walks in carrying a tray of coffee and sliced cake, setting it on the coffee table right next to my annulment papers. I put them there to remind myself to submit them. But instead I just stare at them every day, twisting the rings around my fingers and feeling lost.

Serena’s dark eyes drop to the papers, then back to my face. The PR executive takes a deep, fortifying breath. “Which circles us back to the personal cost to Dominic—agenda item number two.”

“There’s an agenda?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“He tried to liquidate his entire life this morning, Jenna,” Serena says flatly, pulling no punches. “He called an emergency meeting with the guys. Put together a deck to merge Cruz Financial into Mercer Capital at a fraction of its value, sign a five-year non-compete, and leave Chicago permanently.”

The words don’t compute. My brain violently rejects the data. “He . . . what?”

“He tried to sell his firm,” Layla says, slowing down to ensure I catch every devastating syllable. “Like, a total fire sale. He wanted to step down and leave the city so you could have your life back. He figured if he erased himself from the map, you wouldn’t feel exiled in Queens. He was going to give you Chicago.”

My lungs freeze. The absolute, world-ending idiocy of that man. Cruz Financial is his empire. He built it from the ground up, clawing his way into the city’s elite, and he was willing to just burn it to the ground. For me.

“I don’t want that!” I burst out, shooting up from the armchair so fast my knees pop. The sudden movement startles Ma, who clutches the edge of the coffee table. “I don’t want him to lose his company! I don’t want him to leave! Why does he keep doing this? He needs to stop trying to fix everything without actually talking to me about what I want first!”

“Because that is his fatal flaw,” Audrey says quietly, closing her notebook with a soft snap. She pushes her glasses up her nose, her dark eyes entirely sympathetic. “Dominic is a savant at reading people. He observes the variables, calculates the optimal outcome, and executes. And because he is almost never wrong about what a room needs, he rarely thinks to ask permission before he acts.”

“He read the room,” Nora adds softly, her maternal warmth anchoring the chaotic energy in the living room, “and the room told him you needed space. So he decided to give you the biggest space he could engineer.”

“But he is wrong,” I say, my voice cracking, my hands curling into tight fists at my sides. “I don’t want space from him. I wanted him to stop deciding what I wanted. I wanted him to stop treating me like a project, but I didn’t want him to just . . . disappear.”

“Bennett and the guys shut the merger down,” Serena assures me, her tone steadying. “They refused to sign the paperwork or draft the legal transition. But Dominic is a cornered animal right now, Jenna. If he wants to blow up his life for you, he will find a way to do it. The guys can only stall him.”

I look down at the annulment papers. The exit he handed me. Then I look at the rings on my fingers. The rings he engraved with our jokes, our quiet, private truths.

He didn’t just give me an out. He gave me the entire board, and then tried to flip the table on himself just to make sure I won.

I take a deep breath, the static in my veins finally settling into a clear, terrifying, electric hum. I look up at the four women sitting on the faded floral upholstery.

“Layla,” I say, my voice dropping back into its crisp, professional cadence. “How fast can your pilot get us back to Chicago?”

CHAPTER 46

Dominic

The Bonneville is almost ready to ride, and I’ve never been less happy about finishing anything in my life.