Daniel’s POV

The traffic on Fifth Avenue is worse than usual when I see her.

“Sir, if we take the bridge route—” my driver, George, starts from the front seat.

“Wait.” The word comes out sharp. I lean forward, squinting through the tinted window. “Stop the car.”

George—been with me for six years—eases into the right lane. “Everything alright, Mr. Sterling?”

I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because walking on the sidewalk, barely visible through the morning crowd, is ...