He slips behind the wheel of a sleek black town car and speeds away.

  It’s another red flag, Autumn.

  Number eleven…

  End of Episode 8

  Episode 9

  Autumn

  Later that afternoon

  I’m standing in the visitor’s bathroom of Riviera’s Dog Training, wearing a name tag that reads “Potential Puppy Pal.”

  The gaudy yellow paper stands out against my bright blue dress, and I regret not wearing a more professional looking suit.

  Unfortunately, I left all of those in my old closet with Nate.

  Since my interview isn’t due to begin for another half hour, I pull out my second cell phone and look over today’s “Finish Nate’s Ass” Checklist.

  Odette’s.

  Mom.

  Mistress

  I type in the number for Odette’s and suck in a deep breath.

  It rings once.

  It rings twice.

  “Thank you for calling Odette’s,” a gruff voice answers. “How may I assist you this morning?”

  “My name is Samantha Hart, and I’m with the county liquor board,” I say, following a script I’ve written ten times. “A few weeks ago, someone on your staff served an underage woman alcohol at your masquerade ball.”

  “Miss Hart, like we’ve discussed numerous times before, our guest lists are all verified weeks in advance. So, I can assure you—and the board—that an incident like that didn’t happen here.”

  “I can assure you it did.” I keep my voice as firm as the real Miss Hart’s is on YouTube. “One of your party guests lied about the age of the woman he brought in, but I know it’s no fault of yours.”

  Silence.

  “I see.” He pauses. “Is there a hush-fee that you’re about to ask us to pay, Miss Hart?”

  “No, I want to give you the name of this guest and let you know that some of the board want to yank your liquor license over this. I’m the one being lenient.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Nathaniel Taylor.”

  “Address?”

  “11038 Willow Wood Drive,” I say. “The guest he brought in wasn’t his wife like it should’ve been. She was someone who is definitely under twenty-one.”

  “I appreciate this information.”

  “You’re more than welcome.” I end the call, wishing I could be a fly on the wall as they rewind the tapes from that night, as they call to ban Nate from ever stepping inside their club again.

  Never being able to host his high-profile friends there will definitely bruise his ego.

  And his reputation.

  Crossing the first task off my list, I type in my mom’s number next. I’m not ready to call her from my phone just yet, and I’m still unsure of what to say.

  Her line only rings once.

  “Hello?” The soft sound of her voice makes my heart ache. “Hello?”

  Hello…

  “Is someone on this line?”

  Yes.

  “Um, hello? Are you there?”

  ‘There’…

  Hearing her say that word locks up all the potential words in my throat. I’m instantly reminded of the night I called her during my rehearsal dinner, when I asked if Dad was ‘excited’ about the following day’s father-daughter dance.

  The dance that never happened.

  The day they never showed.

  “You’ll be there for me, right?”

  “If you don’t speak up, I’ll have to end this call.” She waits. “Hello?”

  She ends the call, and I force myself to brush away those ugly memories.

  I’ll have to attempt talking to her another day.

  Looking over my makeup one more time, I step out and head to the main desk.

  “Ah, Miss Autumn.” A man in a charcoal-colored suit greets me. “I’m Mr. Wells from the phone interview, and I’m glad you’re already here.”

  I shake his hand, and he escorts me into a small office.

  “We don’t have to do a full-blown interview today,” he says, handing me a folder. “We train everyone who passes the first-round check for two weeks and give you everything you need. Then you have to go over our policies and protocols to determine if this job is for you.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Let me grab a binder for you while you think about the day that you can start training, Miss Autumn.”

  “I’m willing to start as soon as possible.” I smile as he heads to the door. “And just so you know, my last name is Jane, not Autumn.”

  “Autumn Jane?” He stops dead in his tracks. “Is that what you just said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, I see…” He turns around and then he snatches the folder from my hand. “I am so sorry. I’m afraid I spoke too soon.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not in a position to hire you right now, Miss Jane.” He holds out his hand for a parting shake. “But if anything should change, I’ll be the first to let you know.”

  Huh? I cross my arms. “What’s happened between now and literally two seconds ago?”

  “I realized that we already filled the position.” He attempts to smile and fails. “Silly me. That’s all.”

  “I may be younger than you, Mr. Wells, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “Yes, well…” He shifts his feet. “I can’t hire you and that’s that. My apologies for any inconvenience.”

  “I don’t care about the inconvenience.” I narrow my eyes. “I want you to tell me why you’re pulling a sudden one-eighty.”

  He ignores my comment and adjusts his tie. “If you like, I can keep you on our temporary reserves list. If all of our staff positions are ever depleted, you’re the first one we’ll call for a part-time job.”

  “That sounds like lip-service.”

  “Look,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “Our top donor and benefactor has alerted us about a certain conflict of interest.”

  A chill runs up my spine.

  “His name is Nathaniel Taylor.” He doesn’t give me a chance to ask. “When I called to verify your contacts and complete the background check, he sounded quite upset.”

  “Nathaniel Taylor has nothing to do with how you run your business…” My blood boils, and I feel stupid for forgetting to remove him as an emergency contact. “You should hire whoever you want to hire.”

  “I agree,” he says. “And since Mr. Taylor has informed us that his company’s yearly donation will be in jeopardy if I hire you, I have no desire to. Surely, you can understand that decision.”

  I glare at him.

  “On the plus side, he said that he has a job offer for you.” He gives me another fake smile. “I’m sure someone like him pays well and he’ll hire you right away.”

  “You better hope like hell that he still has money to continue donating when I get done with him.” I walk past him, vowing to complete the rest of this week’s checklists the moment I get back to my suite.

  By the time I make it to the hotel, the oversized lobby is completely empty and my duffle bags are sitting next to two huge trash bags.

  What the hell? I approach the front desk. “Why is my stuff out here and not in my room?”

  “Good evening, Miss Jane.” The manager smiles at me. “Unfortunately, we found a mold issue in your suite while you were gone, so we wanted to be sure that your things weren’t exposed to further contamination.”

  The uneasy chill from earlier returns to my spine, but I refuse to believe there’s any correlation.

  “Am I being moved to another room then?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid not,” he says. “We don’t have any other rooms available to you this evening.”

  “The sign outside says there are plenty of vacancies.”

  “We don’t have a room for you.” The sudden firm tone of his voice makes me still. “If you like, I can make a few calls to hotels outside the city. Ones that are outside of a certain county’s jurisdiction.”

  Son of a bitch. “What time did Nate Taylor call you?”

  “Who?”

  “What time did he call?”

  “A little over an hour ago.”

  “And you’re willing to kick out a paying customer just because he says so? Because he paid you?”

  “He’s on the county’s hospitality commerce board, Mrs. Taylor.”

  “Miss Jane.”

  “Miss Jane.” He softens his tone. “I can’t risk saying no to anything a man in his position requests.”

  “No, you just don’t want to.” I grab the handle of my luggage and set the trash bags on top of it.

  I don’t bother giving him a set of parting words.

  It won’t matter.

  I roll my things outside to my car, refusing to let a single tear well in my eyes.

  My fingers are scrolling down to Nate’s new name—Never Again—and I’m hitting call before I can think things through.

  “Good evening, my dear Autumn.” There’s a smile in his voice. “How’s your job search going these days?”

  “Fuck you, Nate.”

  “If you’d done that a few more times instead of trying to divorce me, perhaps you wouldn’t find yourself in this position,” he says. “It’s sad to see, really.”

  “Is this how you’re spending your time these days?” I ask. “Sending out ‘Don’t Hire My Ex-Wife’ memos to every company in the city?”

  “First of all, you’re not my ex-wife yet.”

  “That’s the only thing I’ll ever be to you.”

  “Second of all,” he says, letting out a soft laugh. “I may have had Ricky send out memos to every hotel in this county, but that was light work. Ten minutes at most.”

  My fingers grip the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turn red.

  “As far as the ‘Don’t Hire’ memos, I only sent them to places where you’d qualify. It’s not like there are that many.”

  He beats me to my next line. “By the way, I wouldn’t bother showing up to your second interview at that nanny agency tomorrow. Unless you just feel like driving fifty miles for no reason. Is that how you want to spend your time?”

  Silence.

  “I’m truly impressed by your pettiness, though.” He continues his one-sided conversation. “I never knew that you and I had this vein of ruthlessness in common.”

  “Our last thing in common will be signing the divorce papers.”

  “Oh, I definitely plan to do that,” he says. “But I’m taking my time. I have to make sure that I hurt you as much as you’ve hurt my reputation these past few weeks.”

  “What makes you think that I’m done?”

  His raspy laughter grates my nerves like sandpaper. “I’m curious. What address did you use to register your secret little car?”

  I swallow the answer.

  “Oh, I see,” he says. “It’s not legally registered at all, is it?”

  “Nate—”

  “The county sheriff is the father of my favorite college roommate.” He pauses. “I’ve been meaning to sit down and have a catch-up conversation with him for a while now.”

  “Stop…” I hate that he’s not even attempting to veil his threats. “We don’t love each other anymore, Nate. We haven’t loved each other in a very long time.”

  “I do love you, Autumn.”

  “Well, I’ll never feel the same. You’re a cheater and a liar.”

  “That has nothing to do with me loving you,” he says, his voice as cold as it was on the night that was supposed to be our finale. “That’s the reason I continued to take care of you. I meant it when I said for better or worse.”

  “But the ‘forever faithful’ part meant nothing?”

  “If you come home by tonight, I won’t embarrass you in court.” His voice is deadpan. “We can forget this ordeal ever happened. And maybe with time, I can forgive you for all the childish things you’ve done. If you apologize, I’ll even…”

  The rest of his words whir into the sound of my windshield wipers, forcing me to see that I’ll have to do better moving forward.

  I’d never prepared for another performance with this man. I thought I’d locked up our failing theater for good.

  “Are you there, Autumn?” he asks. “What do you think about stopping this game you’re destined to lose?”

  “I think you can save us both the time and write me a check for half of everything. And I’ll try not to embarrass you in court.”

  “How very cute.” He sounds amused. “I’m trying to help you win here. You’re not as smart as me when it comes to things like this, Autumn.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “I’m smarter.”

  I hang up in his face and pull onto the road.

  I’ll never let him win again…

  End of Episode 9

  Episode 10

  Autumn

  The following evening

  My new temporary home, a one-story Airbnb, sits on the edge of the coast. It’s tucked between two English homes with lavish sunrooms that glimmer under the moonlight.

  The owner hails from the south of France and she has no ties to Nate or anyone who has ever known me before.

  It’s far too early to claim this as a fresh start, though. My email inbox reveals Nate’s ongoing destruction.

  Subject: Grocer Position Now Filled (Rescinded Offer)

  Subject: Cancelling Interview: Best of Luck in Your Search

  Subject: Our Apologies, Miss Jane (See Formal Letter)

  The only job opportunity I have left is the one at Mister R’s estate, and even though I doubt he knows Nate, I can’t risk driving that far to be turned away at the last minute.

  I can’t risk driving my car there at all.

  I pick up his card, running my fingers along the grooved letters of his first name.

  “I’d prefer if you called me Ryder…”

  Flipping it onto its back, I stare at the two listed numbers for what feels like the umpteenth time.

  Me. 555.878.0910

  Estate. 555.897.0043

  In the left-hand corner, the number eight sits in faint grey ink, and it looks like my initials—AEJ—are pressed atop in pencil. It makes me wonder if he personally keeps up with every person who receives his business card.

  There’s no way…

  Dialing the estate’s number, I wait to hear the line ring.

  It never does.

  “Yes, Miss Jane?” an older male with a deep voice comes over the line. “How may I help you this evening?”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “We save all of our applicants’ phone numbers, Miss.” His voice is deadpan. “Are you calling to cancel or reschedule tomorrow’s interview?”

  “No, I’m calling because I need to know a little more about the position.”

  He says nothing.

  “Are you there?” I ask.

  “You can ask whatever questions you like when you arrive.”

  “I need to ask a few of them now, if that’s alright,” I say. I wait for him to give me an okay, but he remains silent.

  “You could at least tell me the salary and benefits, so I can know if it’s worth my time.”

  “I can assure you that my employer is more than generous.”

  “What exactly will I be doing then?” I push him a bit more. “Administrative work? Housekeeping?”

  “We already have a team of qualified housekeepers, Miss Jane.”

  “So, it’s an office job?”

  “Your interview is at noon. I suggest you get here early so that I can give you a tour of the grounds in advance and you can present these questions directly.”

  “Do you not hear how elusive you’re being right now?”

  “Is that your last question, Miss Jane?” he says. “I have an important job that I need to return to.”

  Ugh. “Yes. That’s my last question.”

  “My employer looks forward to speaking with you,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

  He ends the call before I can say another word.

  In the morning, I cover my car with a large canvas tarp and lock the home’s backdoor. Then I double check to make sure I have everything I need in my briefcase before meeting the Uber driver out front.

  “G’morning, Miss!” He hands me a bottle of water as I slip onto the backseat.

  “Good morning.”

  “I always appreciate the chance for a long drive.” He smiles at me through the rearview mirror. “If it’s okay with you, I want to finish listening to this Adele album. After that, you can suggest something else.”

  “It’s fine.” I nod and look out the window. “I like Adele.”

  When the track list comes to an end, he launches into another album of hers.

  I silently sing along to the lyrics of “Hello”—hating that the lyrics hit a little too close to home now—that the days of simply enjoying a sad song for the hell of it are long gone.

  In the middle of the bridge, I start to wonder what would’ve happened if I’d never met Nate. If I’d never—

  Screeechhhh!

  The car suddenly comes to a hard and abrupt stop, jerking me so hard that my forehead hits the headrest.

  Are we in a wreck?

  “Is this the address that you meant to type in for a drop-off?” The driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

  I turn my head and notice that we’re halfway down Mister R’s driveway.

  “Yes. You’re on the right path.”

  “Okay, thanks,” he says. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

  “What?”

  “Now.” His face pales. “Get the fuck out of my car, lady.”

  “Wha-why? Can you at least drive down the rest of the pathway?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  He puts the car in reverse and speeds backward until he reaches a stone statue. Then he unbuckles his seatbelt and stretches back to unlock my door.

  “I’m not driving you any closer.” His face is ghostly white. “Please leave if this is where you have to be.”