The Morning After the Fallout

The winter dawn filtered through the tall arched windows of a historic brick loft on Eugenie Street in Old Town. Chloe Bennett stood in the center of the unfurnished living room, holding a steaming mug of black tea, listening to the muffled rumble of the brown line train passing two blocks west. There was no marble fireplace here, no five-thousand-square-foot expanse of polished oak, and no twenty-fourth-floor view of Lake…