Iris was preparing for bed and was feeling out of sorts. Despite Oakley’s attempts they hadn’t found anything on a man named Jay Zhao living in New York. As Oakley pointed out, it was far odder to not find anything on a millionaire on the internet than to find something. Nobody on the planet who was wealthy enough to live where she was hiding out from her mother existed without a form of digital footprint.
She slid into the bed and pulled the pillow she’d snuggled into the night before closer. She sighed dramatically. It was nearly ten thirty and she knew she needed to get up early in the morning to go to work but her mind wouldn’t shut off.
She hadn’t heard from Jay again and while it was Bo to say her clothes were there, they’d been dropped off by a diminutive Chinese woman who didn’t
