The driver had the car waiting, by the time Julian got to the parking lot. He stepped inside and told him where to go without looking at the day's schedule.
"Home," he said.
While in the car, Julian's phone vibrated once more with a new text from an unknown number:
This isn't over.
He didn't answer. He put the phone face down, watched the city slide past, and let the thought of Ashley be the loudest thing in his head.
Julian found her in the balcony with a mug between her palms and the back door cracked to let in the evening air. She looked up the second his footsteps hit the tile. For a heartbeat neither of them spoke. Then Ashley's shoulders dropped.
"It's handled," he said.
Her breath left a shaky laugh. "Handled-handled? Or… for-today handled?"
"For real," he said, crossing to her. "The story died on-air. The suit's filed. She was served." His mouth tipped. "She didn't like it, one bit."
