Chapter 4: Reset and Rebirth

Natalie took time off work. These days, she took me everywhere to transfer my assets.

We crisscrossed Manhattan in Ubers and taxis, schlepping paperwork from one marble-floored office building to the next. Natalie kept a color-coded folder for every property. She made sure I never signed anything without reading it twice.

I never saw the Derek Natalie mentioned. He'd left all the divorce and asset division matters to his lawyers.

His absence was almost a relief, like dodging a pop quiz you forgot to study for. I half-expected to see him lurking in some glass-walled boardroom, but he stayed away—just a name on a signature page.

We were busy for almost a month. Later, Natalie helped me put all my properties up for rent.

She knew a good realtor, a guy named Raul who wore bright ties and insisted on giving us doughnuts at every meeting. Every time the ink dried on a new lease, Natalie made a little checkmark in her phone.

She calculated for me: my monthly rental income would be about $18,000.

I had never seen so many zeros in one place. Natalie did the math on a napkin at our favorite coffee shop, sliding it across the table like a winning lottery ticket.

That day, I looked at my bank card, full of endless zeros, and at my twenty-eight-year-old self with perfect makeup and hair in the mirror.

I stood in front of the apartment bathroom mirror, swiping on lip balm, half-disbelieving my own reflection. It was strange to see a grown woman with no idea who she was.

I scratched my head. Not bad at all.

I did a little victory dance right there, giggling until Natalie rolled her eyes and tossed a towel at me. Natalie lobbed a rolled-up pair of socks at my head. “Save some energy for rent day, Rockefeller.”