I stared at the new Mission. [MISSION: Tomorrow is Grace's real birthday. She has never had a birthday cake from her mother. Make her one.]We didn't sleep that night we saved the kids on the old road. No one could sleep. Not even Ben. He kept waking up shouting "ROAR! GOLD BARK!" and then falling back asleep on Leo, who was now too big to be a lap dog but still tried. Lily wouldn't let go of my shirt. Grace kept checking if Gold was still breathing because he ate too much cake at the birthday party. Tom was counting the street dogs that followed us home - there were 12 now, sleeping in the hotel parking lot because Gold told them to stay. Victoria was in the living room with Emma, both under one blanket, looking at the live footage from her car. 8 cameras, 4K, night vision, Johnson Sr. bleeding, his sons surrounding my kids. She looked up when I came in. "I sent it to the police commissioner. And to my lawyers. Johnson Sr. will be in interrogation by morning. But..." "But he w

Sarah didn't walk to the bus stop as Davis thought. He watched from the lobby as she walked past the 12 street dogs Gold had adopted, past the tow trucks that were still taking away Johnson's Maybachs, past the police car where Johnson Sr. sat handcuffed with a bloody nose and a smile that wouldn't die. She walked like a broken woman for exactly two blocks. Shoulders down. Grocery cake box in hand. Cheap coat. $20 cake jiggling inside. Then she turned the corner onto 5th Street, where the hotel cameras didn't reach. She stopped. Stood straight. Took off the cheap coat, reversed it in one smooth motion - inside was a Burberry. She took the grocery cake box and dropped it in a trash can without looking. The $20 plastic cake inside? She had never intended to give it. It was a prop. "I'm out. I got it. Two strands. Grace and Victoria. Yes, I'm sure it's hers, I cut it when I hugged her. The frosting helped, she didn't feel it." A white Bentley Continental GT that had been parked