Sunday slipped past Meret in a blur of dull headaches and heavy sleep. The alcohol’s aftereffects clung to her like chains, and though the butler checked on her dutifully—under Bruce’s strict instructions—Bruce himself never came. Not once. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t need him hovering, but the hollow ache said otherwise. By evening, she barely remembered waking to eat before falling back into restless slumber.

The next morning, Meret woke before her alarm. ...