During the day, Addison was all about business. Diligent and focused, she immersed herself in files, reports, prospectuses, and finance, but when the sun came down it brought with it a sadness that enveloped her. Addison never spoke of Joanna, never hinted at the life she had left behind in England and Lydia had never asked. At times, she could see the pain in Addison’s eyes as they ate their meals. Lost in her thoughts Addison would stare across the restaurant, the sorrow creasing her brow and adding years to her face. Lydia soon noticed that scotch was gulped more than it was sipped and cigarettes were now aplenty, and as weeks turned into months, the once perfectly tailored suits Addison wore began to hang from her frame.

Many a night Lydia found herself guiding Addison back to her suite. Her balance and decorum eradicated by some of the finest single-malt money could buy, Addison would sway and swear her way through the hotel, oblivious to the stares and the whispers, and to the paparazzi hiding behind columns of marble and stone.

Early on, there had been a few stories about the rift between the billionaire and her wife, tales of betrayal and indiscretions, but built on nothing more than assumptions, the articles eventually faded away. After all, Addison and Joanna weren’t the first married couple to have problems, and they certainly wouldn’t be the last, but when Lydia noticed the photographers hiding in the shadows outside restaurants or the hotel, she quickly added damage control to her list of duties. Pulling every Euro from her handbag, she bought back the memory cards containing images of Addison unraveled and unruly, and the next day, she called Millie to ask her advice. After explaining the situation, Lydia began leaving the office each night with a wad of Euros courtesy of the office’s petty cash, guaranteeing that not one hint of Addison’s behavior would ever make it into the tabloids, and it hadn’t.

So, to the world, Addison Kane now lived and worked in Spain, doing what she did best and never missing a step as her company’s coffers continued to fill. There were no pictures showing her in a drunken state. None showing the weight she had lost or the way her hair had begun to gray at the temples. Those closest to her had noticed her ice blue eyes had lost their luster, and her posture had weakened, but her thirst to succeed in business had remained the same. It truly was her life’s blood, and without it, she would have surely gone insane with the thoughts of dread constantly whirling around in her head. The woman she loved was going to die, and it was Addison’s fault, and every morning when she opened her eyes, Addison damned herself for being a Kane.