Lauren unpeeled herself from the wall. Ronnie nodded tentatively. Andrea turned right, then left. The obvious Exit sign was above the door they’d come through—the one that led straight to the parking lot where all the parents were. But then, as she turned to her right, away from the offices, she noticed another glowing red Exit sign down the long hall.

“There,” she said, pivoting. “Let’s go.”

But at that moment, the door they’d come through flung open again. Light streamed in. A man in a security uniform stepped into the hallway, unassumingly twirling his whistle. When he turned and laid eyes on them, his face registered a look of terror. His gaze dropped to Piper on the floor.

“What the fuck?” he bellowed, reaching for something in his pocket. A phone. “Stay where you are! No one move!”

Andrea glanced at the second exit. Maybe, if she were a different person, she would have run for it. But as it was, the security guard was already barreling for them, cell phone to his ear, simultaneously yelling that they needed an ambulance and a police car and telling the women to absolutely, positively, stay where they were.

PART TWO

Piper

February

Here’s the thing: your life wasn’t always this beautiful. These days, you have the big house on the ocean, the pretty clothes, the flawless figure. You have enough money to send your son to private school and maybe enough capital to set up a second Silver Swans up the coast. You have sway over so many parents in this community—and they all want their kids to come to this place, learn from the teachers you’ve chosen, participate in the activities you’ve curated.

That feels good. Of course it does. And for a while now, you’ve felt untouchable, like nothing can knock you from your pedestal, like nothing bad will ever happen again. Something will, of course. The something looms close, coming in only a few weeks . . . but you don’t know that yet. No one knows it yet. But today, you are letting the sunlight bathe you, listening to the kids’ happy cries, and you are happy. Really, really happy.

You’ve nearly forgotten that it wasn’t always this way.

Like your time with the Asshole. The relationship began sweetly enough. The two of you lived in a tiny apartment together in a good part of town. In the fresh, early days together, he promised to take care of you, financially and emotionally. He said he was going to make it big someday, and you believed him. He was so damn smart, and he made you laugh until tears rolled down your cheeks. You’d grown up in a household where laughter was scarce. Money troubles hung over your family; levity never punctured through.

But he swooped in and made everything light and sweet. He gave you permission to smile.