Molly and Graeme (Part 1, page 2 of 17)

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Part 1

This was not the case for Molly Mia Goulding.

Her humiliating moment garnered three Michelin stars. Her humiliating moment won a gold medal at an Olympics that neither Russia nor the United States was boycotting. Molly’s humiliating moment would be bequeathed to the Louvre after her death. And while it had only been a year, the moment still burned in the back of her eyes. Time seemed disinclined to knit the wound.

It’s not like she’d wanted to go to the conference. It was filled with vultures and hacks. Lawyers who’d graduated from shitty law schools and preyed on failing marriages with ruthless efficiency, their greedy eyes hungry for the pain of rent families.

But her partners had insisted. “It’ll be good for you,” they had said. “It’ll be good for the firm,” they had cooed sweetly. Molly knew they were blowing smoke up her ass. Wanting her to go because the conference was being held in Florida. Not even Miami – vile Orlando. The previous year when the conference had been held in Aspen, no one at the firm had suggested she speak there much less attend.

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