GOLDEN || S. REID

𝟷: 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘, 𝙲𝙰

"I still don't get why I have to be here." Eliza checked her nails over, frowning at the chip on her left forefinger. She'd have to get them redone soon. "I mean, it's not like we were married. You know better than anyone that he meant virtually nothing to me."

Dr. Smith, Eliza's court-mandated therapist, pursed her lips at the way she was taking things. After all, it had only been a day since her fiance had been murdered by the vigilante of the Golden State. Not to be confused with the Golden State killer.

"Eliza--"

"Ruth," Eliza cut her off, shifting her attention away from her nails. She settled her hands atop the two-thousand Louis Vuitton purse she had been gifted earlier that week. It wasn't the most expensive thing she owned, figuring it was just her aged therapist she'd have to deal with that day.

"Sorry, Ruth," Dr. Smith corrected herself. "Ruth, despite the fact that Thomas was not your husband, it's okay for you to have cared about him. He was shot through your car window while you were driving."

"And ruined a beautiful couture gown in the process," Eliza muttered. "Fifty thousand for my fiance to get brain matter all over the left side. Ezra was not happy with me, but fine. You want to hear about how much I cared for dear Thomas? He was a drunk, a horrible one. We slept in different rooms on separate ends of the mansion and not once did I think about how much I cared about him. He was a horrible man and I'm glad he's dead. Good fucking riddance."

Dr. Smith looked past Eliza's expression of entitlement, eyes settling on the clock that hung over the door opposite her desk. She nearly breathed out in relief as she realized the time, scribbling down the last few notes she had from this session.

"Well, Ruth, it looks like our time for this session is up," Dr. Smith collected her papers together on her desk, rising to offer a hand to Eliza as a sign of peace between them. The CEO chose to ignore the olive branch, bringing out her phone and going back to check her emails. The sunglasses that had been nestled into her hair were now settled onto the bridge of her nose, giving off the impression that she wasn't really interested in anything else the therapist had to say.

Dr. Smith retracted her hand in embarrassment. "We have two more sessions together. Please think about what we've talked about today."

"Okay," Eliza said without emotion. If she had been chewing gum, this is where she would have popped her bubble. "See you later, doc."

Eliza left the office without a second thought, allowing the door to swing open dramatically while holding her purse out for her assistant. Her eyes didn't stray from her phone, as her helper grabbed her purse and scrambled after her.

They were out of the building by the time Eliza got to the bottom of her recent emails, reading headers from potential buyers, internship hopefuls, and... the FBI? "Julia," she turned her phone so that her screen was facing outward, "why is the FBI emailing me?"

Eliza watched as her nineteen-year-old assistant pulled out the car keys and handed them to her, slipping her own pair of sunglasses over her eyes as the sun nearly blinded her.

"Right," Julia blinked the sun out of her eyes, giving herself a moment to recover before digging into her own purse and pulling out a tattered notepad. "SSA Aaron Hotchner of the Behavioral Analysis Unit requested a meeting with you about Thomas Abernathy's murder. They're trying to catch the Golden State Vigilante before he turns into another Golden State Killer or something."

Eliza snorted, unlocking her car and standing back as the doors opened automatically. She hadn't wanted to get a Tesla originally, but having Elon Musk as a partner wasn't terrible... just difficult. Thank God she had been driving her Mercedes the night Thomas was murdered. They were a little more understanding in the "accidents happen" department.