Her boyfriend was a powerful man, a brilliant legal mind. He would have contacted Cole’s parents, threatened some sort of legal action if Cole didn’t cease and desist his harassment. Cole’s dad must have flown to New York, found his son, and dragged him back home. The Doberinskys would have taken Cole’s credit cards, his ID, ensured he could not return to New York. If Cole told anyone about Nat’s sugar baby status, it would be dismissed as the angry ramblings of an ex-boyfriend. Now, she could relax.

Ava had not been to class since school resumed. It was not unusual for a student to tack a few extra days onto spring break, especially when they were traveling out of state. But with each day that passed, Ava was falling further behind. Nat had texted her several times, inquiring about her return, but she’d received no response. Until Wednesday afternoon.

Can you come over?

Nat could. She just had to clean her brushes after her painting class, and then she was done for the day. Grabbing her coat (a new camel trench, courtesy of Gabe), she hurried to Ava’s building. She was eager to see her friend, sincerely hoped the girl had recovered from the traumatic encounter with the violent bastard who had hurt her. Nat wanted the best for Ava. And selfishly, she wanted her friend and confidante back. Ava was the only person who would understand her relationship. And without Ava, Nat would not be with Gabe, would not be so ridiculously happy.

The doorman, Pete, called upstairs, announcing her by name. She had been there often enough that he remembered her, and she him. Nat hurried to the elevator and rode to the penthouse. Maybe she should have brought welcome-home flowers. Or chocolates. At least she was armed with notes from the classes Ava had missed. In the hallway, she practically skipped in anticipation of seeing her friend. But when Nat knocked on the door, it was opened by a heavyset woman with a warm face and softly curled blond hair.

“Umm . . . hi,” Nat said. “Is Ava home?”

Her friend materialized behind the older women, illuminating their resemblance. “Mom, can you go get us some coffees?”

Without a word, Ava’s mother grabbed her coat and purse and left, giving Nat a sidelong glance.

“Come in,” Ava said, ushering Nat inside. The blond girl wore baggy sweatpants and a slouchy cardigan. Her skin was free of makeup, but Nat could see no traces of the damage that creep had done to her face. Ava looked fresh, pretty, natural—but this was not the confident, savvy girl Nat knew. There was something vulnerable, defeated in Ava’s eyes and in her posture. And then she noticed the packing boxes.

“I’m going home for a while,” Ava explained, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re dropping out of school?”

“I’m deferring,” Ava corrected her. “I’m going to move in with my parents, get a job, and save some money. Hopefully, I can come back in the fall.”