The basement of the community center in Brooklyn smelled of damp concrete and old coffee.

Dosha stood in the center of the room, wearing a grey tracksuit. She was sweating. She had just finished a monologue from A Streetcar Named Desire. She had screamed, she had wept, she had broken down.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, scattered applause from the twelve other students.

Sloan, a blonde actress who had once had a three-line arc on Law & Order, rolled her eyes.

"Great acting," Sloan said loudly during the break. "Too bad nobody wants to hire you. I heard your husband works in... what was it? Logistics? Does he drive a truck?"

A few people snickered.

Dosha unscrewed the cap of her water bottle. She didn't respond. The NDA prevented her from correcting them. If she said My husband owns the network that airs your favorite show, she would lose the settlement.

Sloan walked past Dosha's bag and "accidentally" kicked it. Scripts spilled onto the dirty floor.

"Give it up, Dosha," Sloan sneered. "You're blacklisted. You're going to rot in the mud."

Dosha crouched down to gather the papers. "Better to rot in the mud than on a casting couch, Sloan."

Sloan's face twisted. She raised her hand.

The metal door of the basement groaned open.

Two men in black suits stepped in. They were wide, tall, and radiated menace. The room went dead silent. Sloan's hand froze in mid-air.

Then, Eleanor Stuart walked in.

She was wearing a vintage Chanel suit, cream-colored, immaculate. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe chignon. She looked at the peeling paint on the walls, the water stains on the ceiling, and finally, at the group of aspiring actors in their sweatpants.

She looked like a queen who had stepped into a sewer.

She didn't look at Sloan. Sloan didn't exist to her.

She walked straight to Dosha. She reached out with a gloved hand and tilted Dosha's chin up.

"This is why you missed breakfast?" Eleanor asked. Her voice was soft, cultured, and terrifying. "To roll around in this... filth?"

Sloan turned pale. She stepped back, realizing she had made a terrible miscalculation.

Dosha slapped Eleanor's hand away. "This is my work, Eleanor."

Eleanor pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wiped the glove where it had touched Dosha's skin.

"Get in the car," Eleanor said. "I have a business proposition."

Dosha followed her out. She left Sloan standing there, mouth open.

A Rolls Royce Phantom was idling at the curb.

Inside, the air conditioning was set to a crisp sixty-eight degrees. Eleanor handed Dosha a blue folder.

The title read: Dissolution of Marriage & Asset Settlement Agreement.

"Casper is losing his mind over that model," Eleanor said, looking out the window at the graffiti-covered street. "It is embarrassing the family. But you... you are becoming a problem. You are becoming defiant."

"I am becoming expensive," Dosha corrected.

"Sign this," Eleanor said. "I will lift the blacklist on your acting career. I will fund your production company. And I will give you two hundred million dollars in cash."

Dosha looked at the number on the page. $200,000,000.00.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. It was freedom. It was power. It was everything.

"The only condition," Eleanor said, turning to look at her with ice-blue eyes, "is that you disappear. You leave Casper. You leave New York. You never speak the name Stuart again."

Dosha picked up the pen. The weight of it felt good in her hand.

The library at the Stuart Estate on Long Island was a mausoleum of books that no one read. Three lawyers stood behind the desk, watching Dosha like vultures.

Dosha read the final clause.vacate the Penthouse within 48 hours.

She took a breath. She thought of the basement. She thought of the three million dollar necklace around Sienna's neck.

She touched the pen to the paper. She wrote the letter D.

Bang.

The double mahogany doors flew open, hitting the walls with a violence that shook the room.

Casper strode in. He was wearing golf attire-a polo shirt and slacks-but his face was thunderous. He was breathing hard.

He walked straight to the desk, reached over, and snatched the document from under Dosha's hand. The pen skidded across the paper, leaving a jagged line of ink.

He scanned the page. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. He looked at Eleanor.

"You are liquidating my assets, Mother."

Eleanor sipped her tea. "I am cutting your losses, Casper. She is a liability."

"She is my liability."

Casper ripped the document in half. Then in quarters. The sound of tearing paper was loud in the silent room.

Dosha stood up, her chair scraping backward. "Casper! That was my exit!"

"Sit down," he barked at her. He threw the confetti of paper onto the desk. "You don't get to leave until I say you leave."

"That was a two-hundred-million-dollar agreement!" Dosha shouted. The mask was gone. The cool, calculated wife was gone. She was just a woman watching her life raft sink.

Casper grabbed her wrist. He pulled her toward him. "You think you're worth two hundred million? You?"

"She wants to go, Casper," Eleanor said calmly. "You cannot force a merger."

Casper laughed. It was a dark, ugly sound.

"She doesn't want to go. She's throwing a tantrum because I gave the necklace to Sienna."

He looked at Dosha. His eyes were wild. "Tell her. Tell her you want to stay."

Dosha opened her mouth to scream No.

Casper pulled out his phone. He held the screen up to her face. It was a list of debts. Her mother's medical bills. Her father's gambling debts. The lien on her childhood home.

"Without the Stuart name," he whispered, "the creditors will eat you alive before the ink on that check dries."

Dosha froze. He had bought her debt. He owned her debt.

She slumped. The fight went out of her shoulders.

"I... I don't want a divorce," she whispered.

Eleanor sighed. "Foolish."

Casper yanked Dosha toward the door. "We're leaving."

As they reached the exit, Asset came bounding down the hall. The dog looked happy to see them.

Casper shoved the leather leash into Dosha's hand.

"Take your dog," he said. "We're going home."

Dosha stumbled after him, the dog trotting beside her. She looked back at the mansion. It wasn't a home. It was a fortress, and the drawbridge had just been raised.

Casper shoved her into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. He got in the driver's side and slammed the door. He revved the engine, the sound like a beast waking up.

The speedometer read 105 mph. The trees on the side of the Hamptons highway were a green blur.

Dosha gripped the handle above the door. Her knuckles were white.

Casper stared straight ahead. His grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to snap the leather. He was furious. Not because she tried to leave, but because his mother had tried to take something that belonged to him.

The car's Bluetooth system chimed. Incoming Call: Charlie.

Casper didn't tap the screen to decline fast enough. The call connected.

"Casper!" Charlie's voice boomed through the surround sound speakers. "Dude, Sienna is loving the necklace! She's posting stories from the yacht. She wants to know when you're coming over?"

The air in the car turned solid.

Dosha looked out the window. A bitter smile touched her lips.

"And hey," Charlie continued, oblivious. "Did the invisible wife freak out? Giving Sienna three mil and the wife fifty grand... that is savage, man. You are cold."

Casper hit the End Call button. The silence that followed was louder than the engine.

"So everyone knows," Dosha said softly. "The market value is public knowledge."

Casper slammed on the brakes. The car skidded, tires screeching on the asphalt, pulling onto the gravel shoulder.

He turned to her. His eyes were black pits.

"Shut up. You almost cost me fifty percent of my voting rights back there."

"You tore up my freedom!" Dosha yelled. "That was my money!"

"Is that all you are?" Casper shouted back. "A ledger? A balance sheet?"

"Yes!" Dosha screamed. "Because that's all you made me! What else is there? Do you want me to love you? While you buy diamonds for your mistress?"

Casper flinched. The truth hit him like a physical blow. He unlocked the doors.

"Get out."

Dosha blinked. "What?"

"Get out of the car."

"We are twenty miles from the city. It's about to rain."

"Walk," Casper said. "Think about your ROI while you walk."

Dosha looked at him. She saw the cruelty in his jaw. She realized, finally, that there was no bottom to this.

She grabbed her purse. She opened the door.

Asset, in the back seat, whined and tried to scramble forward to follow her.

Casper hit the central lock button. The back doors clicked shut.

"No," Casper said. "The dog stays."

Dosha stood on the side of the road. "Casper, give me the dog."

He didn't look at her. He floored the gas pedal. The car shot forward, kicking up gravel and dust, leaving her standing alone in the sudden silence.

A drop of rain hit her cheek. Then another.

Dosha took off her heels. She held them in one hand. She stepped onto the rough asphalt with her bare feet.

She started walking.