I pull up to Chloe's apartment building at exactly nine AM, the Maybach's engine purring softly in the morning air. I've dressed the part of a successful but understated husband - navy blazer, crisp white shirt, no tie. Nothing too flashy that might overwhelm a dying woman, but expensive enough to maintain whatever image Chloe needs.
She emerges from the building before I can even text her, wearing a knee-length black dress and pearls. Appropriate for a deathbed visit, I suppose. Her hair is perfectly styled, makeup flawless despite the supposedly emotional circumstances.
She slides into the passenger seat with a nervous smile. "Thank you for doing this, Noah. I know it's complicated, but-"
"Save it." I put the car in drive. "We discussed this last night. Today is about Nora, not us."
