Eleanor uses the terrace as a means of escape, even in the dead of winter. It’s more like a heated solarium, with a wet bar, full bathroom, and Zen rock garden. I watch through the beveled glass as Lawrence tries to return to her good graces. Brushing Eleanor’s hair off her forehead, he looks into her eyes. As he talks, her body relaxes. Soon, she nods, and this time, when he opens his arms, she lets him embrace her. For one long, tender minute, they sway together, as if dancing to silent music.

Suddenly, Lawrence jerks up his head, as if reminded of something. Looking at me over Eleanor’s shoulder, he raises a finger. Nodding, I thumb through the Wall Street Journal, but ten minutes later, he still hasn’t emerged. Just as I’m about to leave, Lawrence rushes into the kitchen. “Cassie, hold on.”

“I need to change my tights,” I say tersely.

“They’re fine.” He tries to catch my eye. “You’re mad. At me? What did I do?”

“I’m not mad, I’m upset . . .”

“Cassie, spit it out.”

“Why don’t you want me to go to court? You did the same thing yesterday with the DeFiore meeting. What’s the deal?”

“Cassie, listen, today’s appearance doesn’t matter. It will be over before it starts. I don’t think Eleanor or Nate should go either. This family needs to be as far away from that courthouse as possible.”

“What about the Bowtie’s idea for a united front?”

“Burt made one passing remark that Eleanor has hooked on to.” Lawrence seizes my shoulders. “Billy is innocent. We all know that. But this girl has set a machine in motion, and given the timing and politics, his innocence may not matter. If this case goes to trial, it will blow up into a media circus. I’m trying to protect us, that’s all.”

I consider this. “You’re sure it’s not about me?”

He sighs. “What about you, Cassandra?”

I don’t expect Lawrence to focus on my problems, but I can’t escape them, especially when I’m home. It’s more accurate, for instance, to call my difficult period in high school a complete unraveling. At the time, I told my parents I was fighting with Avery, my best friend since preschool. And while we did have an argument, a bitter one, my breakdown was the result of other events, with Marcus at the white-hot center. The truth is, Marcus was married, and despite his promises, would never leave his wife. It was a confusing experience, to love someone who lets you down, over and over. I was ashamed and obsessive, joyful and reckless. It was like a tornado, and I pitched into the vortex with abandon, only to find myself stripped of confidence and dignity—and alone.