That was twenty-nine years ago, and Gabe still cared for his wife in a platonic, companionable way. The morphing of his affections was only natural, given the changes in his partner. He’d married a passionate public defender, vehemently advocating for the wrongly accused, the marginalized, the victims of a broken system. Now, Celeste was a stay-at-home mom, having left her job when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer six years ago. After a lumpectomy, radiation, an estrogen-suppressing prescription, she was in full remission. But she wouldn’t go back to the law. Her illness had been a wake-up call. Celeste wanted to focus on her health, spend more time with their daughter, Violet. Of course, Gabe had been supportive. He’d just made partner at his Wall Street firm. Celeste’s salary had been negligible in comparison.

His wife was still beautiful, in a mature, maternal way, but he was no longer sexually attracted to her. Her health struggles had taken a toll, etching lines into her luminous dark skin that could have been erased with injectables or fillers, but Celeste didn’t want a frozen face full of poison, she said. The medication had made her gain weight that no amount of tennis or Pilates classes could budge. Parts of his wife’s body were starting to sag, but Celeste eschewed plastic surgery. She’d moved out to the Hamptons four years ago, rarely came into the city anymore. Celeste said she liked the serenity of their country estate, but she felt out of place in New York now, inferior to all the smooth, svelte society wives.

In contrast, Gabe had only grown more handsome, more distinguished over the years. His thick silver hair, his expensive clothes, his cool confidence were like catnip to females. Women flirted with him regularly, coming onto him like bitches in heat. He ignored their overtures. Given the current climate, he wasn’t going to get involved with a colleague or, God forbid, an underling. He’d been reckless in the past, but not anymore. He would not make that mistake again.

It was his third affair (fidelity was not the norm in his circles) that had gone wrong. Melody, an attractive paralegal at the firm, had been emotionally unstable. She’d grown needy and demanding, texting him constantly, calling him at all hours, professing her love. Once, she’d even shown up at the house in the Hamptons under the auspices of delivering a brief. Thankfully, Celeste hadn’t cottoned on, but Gabe had promptly ended the relationship. Melody had cried, threatened to harm herself, to tell his wife. The girl couldn’t have known how close she had come to disappearing. Gabe was capable of anything to protect his wife, his daughter, and his good name. He had people who took care of problems like Melody. In the end, he’d offered the paralegal a payoff and a new job at a Midtown firm. She had accepted. Lucky for her.

Sometimes, though, at the oddest times, Gabe felt like Melody was watching him. It was paranoia; it had been years since he’d dismissed the woman from his life. But occasionally, he’d feel a prickle at the back of his neck, a frisson running up his spine, and he would sense that Melody was nearby, observing. He had yet to clap eyes on her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t out there, waiting for an opportunity to destroy him. Gabe knew how to take care of himself. He traveled with protection. But the Melody affair had taught him a powerful lesson.