Chapter 11

Julian's head pounded as he stared at his reflection in La Mar's bathroom mirror, the elegant lighting doing nothing to hide the wreckage of last night's decisions. Last night felt like a dream. Or a nightmare. His eyes were bloodshot roadmaps of bad choices, pupils still slightly dilated from whatever pills Carl had given him at the club. The expensive dress shirt he'd chosen for today's meeting with Margaret couldn't disguise the slight tremor in his hands, or the sickly pallor of his skin. Fragments of memory flickered through his mind like broken film: neon lights, pulsing music, a stripper named Crystal who might not have existed. Had he really spent three hours talking to himself in the VIP room? The marble counter felt cool against his palms as he leaned closer to the mirror, examining the stranger who stared back. This wasn't the Julian Walker who used to command respect at Miami Central Bank. This wasn't even the Julian who'd betrayed Chloe. His phone buzzed. C