I smiled placidly as they chatted as if I wasn’t there. Sometimes, I wondered how I tolerated it all—the disregard, the disrespect of being undermined and used—and could chalk it up to two things. The first: I knew the devil by name and thus knew her motives. I saw her coming a mile away, and as such, I didn’t get fired up about the injustice of it all. Addison was a tool for me to use just as she used me. The second: I’d learned early on that the only thing you could do was a good job. I couldn’t control Addison any easier than I could control the orbit of the moon. But I could give her a length of rope and wait. She’d hang herself with it eventually, and when Caroline figured out Addison was largely full of shit, I’d come out of it fresh as a daisy.

Of course, it’d been years, and she had yet to falter. As an exercise supplied by my therapist, I kept Nag Notes in my phone where I noted every infraction, big or small. If I was upset, hurt, humiliated, it went in the notes. I archived them weekly and never read through them, never even been tempted. But I couldn’t bring myself to delete them like my therapist had said. I could let it go—mostly. But I wouldn’t forget.

Caroline said goodbye, barely glancing in my direction, and I wished she knew just how much I was doing. Honestly, I should have won a major award just for keeping my mouth shut. The high road sucked, but I’d worked too hard for anything less. My integrity was too important to risk on behalf of Addison Lane. And anyway, I had a feeling that was exactly what she wanted—to push me until I broke.

I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Anything else?” I asked with the patience of a saint, hands folded neatly in my lap.

“I want you to really consider this florist you’re pushing. We won’t tolerate another incident like the Berkshire wedding.”

The royal We, as if she were speaking for Caroline and all of Archer.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “They’re the best florist in Manhattan, and our brides love the charm of using a shop that grows its own flowers.”

“Bower Bouquets is the best florist in Manhattan. No one had even heard of Longbourne until a few months ago.”

My lips flattened. “Bower is a big-box corporation without the charm of Longbourne. Just today, Madison Wendemere requested a tour of Longbourne’s greenhouses, and if you don’t think she’ll tell her friends, you’ve never exchanged words with her.”

Addison regarded me for a moment. “Just be sure, Lila. It’s your ass.” She turned her attention to her laptop, opening it before beginning to type, effectively dismissing me.