Dominic stood on the sidewalk in Astoria. The neighborhood was quiet, a stark contrast to the sirens of Manhattan.

He entered the pre-war building. The lobby smelled of floor wax, old mail, and someone cooking cabbage. It was the smell of reality.

He fumbled with his keychain, finding the rusty silver key he hadn't used in half a decade. Apartment 4B.

He climbed the three flights of stairs. His expensive Italian suit felt ridiculous here, like a costume. The leather soles of his shoes slipped on the worn linoleum.

He unlocked the door. It creaks open with a protest.

The apartment was small. Dusty. Cold. It was a time capsule.

He flipped the light switch. The bulb flickered, buzzed, then stabilized into a dim yellow glow.

Boxes were stacked everywhere. Remnants of his bachelor life. Books, old clothes, kitchenware he never unpacked.

He put his suitcase on the futon. Dust motes danced in the light.

He opened a box labeled "Law School."

Inside, he found a photo. Him and Jesenia at graduation. He smiled faintly. He forgot how happy he looked back then. How light.

He found another box: "Wedding Prep."

He pulled out a piece of paper. A draft of his wedding vows to Evelin.

Reading them now made him nauseous. "I promise to be your anchor... I promise to put you first..."

He crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it in the trash can.

He sat at the small, wobbly desk and opened his laptop. He connected to the spotty building Wi-Fi.

He logged into his email. Jesenia had already sent the draft filing. She worked fast.

He read the legal terms: Irreconcilable Differences. Adultery.

He hesitated over the "Send" button. The recipient was Evelin's corporate counsel.

It felt final. A death of a dream. A death of the man he tried to be.

He closed his eyes. He saw Hank's smirk. He felt the sting of Evelin's slap.

He opened his eyes. He clicked Send.

He closed the laptop, exhaling deeply. The weight on his chest lifted slightly.

He went to the tiny kitchen to find water. The pipes groaned and shuddered as he turned the tap. The water came out brown for a second before clearing.

He drank from a dusty mug that said "World's Okayest Lawyer."

He realized he was hungry. His stomach growled. He had left the wagyu steak in Tribeca.

He lay down on the dusty futon, fully clothed. He stared at the cracked ceiling. A spider was weaving a web in the corner.

"Just you and me, buddy," he muttered.

He closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

Morning light filtered through the grimy window of the Astoria apartment.

Across the river, in the penthouse, Evelin woke up alone.

She reached for her phone. An email notification was waiting.

From: Wiggins & Associates.

Subject: Filing for Divorce - Waters v. Carney.

Evelin screamed. She threw the phone against the wall. It cracked but didn't shatter.

She picked up the landline, her fingers trembling with rage. She dialed her family's private banker.

"Ms. Carney?" the banker answered on the first ring.

"Freeze everything," Evelin snarled. "Joint accounts, supplementaries, credit lines. Everything."

"Ms. Carney, he is a signatory on the main..."

"I don't care!" Evelin shrieked. "Flag it for fraud investigation! Say he stole my jewelry! I don't care what you do, just lock it! Cut him off!"

"Understood, Ms. Carney. Initiating freeze protocols now."

Evelin hung up, breathing heavily. Her chest heaved. "Let's see how long you last without money, Dom. You'll come crawling back."

Cut to Dominic in Queens.

He woke up stiff. His neck hurt. He was hungry.

He walked to a nearby coffee shop. It wasn't the artisanal café he was used to. It was a dunkin' donuts.

He ordered a black coffee and a plain bagel.

"That'll be $4.50," the teenager behind the counter said.

Dominic pulled out his Amex Black Card. He tapped it on the reader.

BEEP. DECLINED.

Dominic frowned. He had expected this, given the lockout last night, but the reality of the public rejection still stung. "Try it again. It's probably the chip."

The teenager sighed and swiped it.

BEEP. DECLINED - CONTACT ISSUER.

Dominic felt the heat rise in his cheeks. The people in line behind him shifted impatiently.

"Do you have another card?" the teenager asked, popping gum.

Dominic pulled out his old personal debit card. The one from his bachelor days. He knew the account was almost empty; Evelin had insisted years ago that he consolidate everything into their joint trust "for tax purposes," leaving this account to gather dust and fees.

He checked the balance on his banking app.

Balance: $14.50.

He stared at the number. He had been a fool. A trusting, idiotic fool. He had managed billions for her family, yet left himself with less than the price of a movie ticket.

"Cancel the bagel," Dominic said quietly. "Just the coffee."

He paid. Balance remaining: $10.00.

He sat by the window, sipping the watery coffee. It tasted like ash.

His phone buzzed. A text from Evelin.

Evelin: Come home and beg, and I might unlock the cards. You won't last a week.

Dominic stared at the text.

He typed back: Keep the money. I'm not for sale.

He blocked her number.

He opened a job search app on his phone. He had an MBA. He had experience. He could find a job.

He clicked on a listing for a Senior Analyst position at a rival firm.

A notification popped up immediately: Error. Your profile has been flagged by Carney Industries HR Network.

He tried another. Same error.

She had blacklisted him. She had put a "Do Not Hire" tag on his file in the central HR database used by all the major firms.

Dominic put the phone down. He had $10. No job prospects. And powerful enemies.

He took a sip of coffee. It was going to be a long day.