the platform to await the train that would finally carry her to work. A loud, roaring sound presently announced its arrival, and several minutes later, she arrived at the offices of Melinda Forde Singles.
There was a large knot of people clustered in front of the building, and when the turmoil in Zoey’s mind calmed enough to let her recognize them, Zoey felt a mix of anger and horror well in her heart. Her mother’s building had been surrounded by local and national reporters, perched eagerly at every vantage point, like buzzards waiting for their prey.
Two of the reporters were locked in a fierce argument with Ms. Bransford, who was refusing to allow them access to the reception area. On either side of the agency, journalists were capturing the spectacle, calling the agencies they represented, or punching notes into their tablets.
One of the pair that was still arguing with the receptionist, a tall, tanned man with neatly-cropped blond hair, began making an obvious attempt to seduce Ms. Bransford. Zoey was fairly certain the receptionist could see right through him, but she was also a lonely woman who hadn’t had a date in close to a year. Ms. Bransford was standing firm so far, but Zoey knew she would capitulate eventually. She needed to get to her mother before her receptionist gave in; the last thing Melinda needed to be doing was having a conversation with the press.
Zoey had yet to be noticed by the reporters so she went a block down, to a nearby bank. She snuck into the alley behind that building, running down it until she came to a chain link fence. Thanking God that she hadn’t worn heels, she climbed over it and into the alleyway that ran behind Melinda Forde. Dashing to a back entrance, Zoey used her key to enter the maintenance area of the building. A few minutes of navigating through that badly-lit area let her into one of the building’s main hallways.
Moments later, she was standing in front of her mother’s office, a rather large affair hidden away on the second floor. Its door and windows were made of frosted glass, framed in an elegant hardwood border. The door bore the agency’s logo in silver, and the inscription “Melinda Diana Forde, CEO” in gold.
Zoey went inside and saw that the elegant black sofa to the right of the door was covered in a mess of papers and office boxes. The gray marble coffee table in front of it was similarly weighted down, as was the receptionist’s desk in the center of the office. A woman named Maria normally occupied that post, serving as Melinda’s personal secretary, but by the looks of things she was out today, and Melinda was clearly starting to panic.
“Mom,” Zoey called out as she headed for the back office, a small windowless room tucked away in the rear.
There was no reply, but the door was cracked open, and Zoey let herself in, shutting the door behind her.
Melinda sat behind a small office desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. Across from her, a flat-screen television was broadcasting the news, but Melinda didn’t seem to be paying attention to it. She was staring intently at a sheaf of papers she was holding, as if they were the only thing in the room.
Zoey had to call her mother twice more before the woman responded.
“Oh, good morning, Zoey,” she said, without looking up. “I’ve just been looking through these papers that came yesterday. Apparently, your ‘boyfriend’ works fast. According to this letter, he’s already assembled his legal team. Discovery will start soon, and the trial will follow shortly after. It’s going to be hell fighting against this guy. I’ve been going through the files this morning. I want to see if I can find anything damaging before Team Zakiridis shows up.”
“You shouldn’t fight him, Mom. You just need to take down the ads. We’re not gonna win this one any other way. We don’t have the money, he has access to better resources, and