Andrea was truly blossoming as a reporter, Miranda thought when she read her bylines. She still thought of the younger woman, more often than she would like. And every now and then she pulled out her drawer and reread the note she left her in Paris. Emily, surprisingly, still kept in touch with the former assistant, and occasionally she'd overhear Emily's conversations with her in the evenings while Emily was waiting for the book, as the new girl could not be trusted yet.

If she were being honest, she'd admit that the high isn't the same as it used to be. One or two lines used to give her a burst of energy and focus for a good hour, but now she needed twice as much for half the time.

She switched to primarily using crack, as inhaling the smoke didn't seem to irritate her nose as much. However, the powder was more accessible if she needed a quick hit when she wasn't in the privacy of her home.

Miranda wasn't sure how it started, but she felt herself scheduling her life around her drug use, sending her daughters to their father's every weekend, buying from Roger nearly once a week. She'd gone from using on the weekends when the girls weren't home to using when she wasn't with the girls. Still, she convinced herself she was in control. She could stop at any time—she just chose not to.

One weekend when James was out of town, Miranda and the girls baked cookies, leaving her kitchen an absolute disaster zone. Cara wasn't due to return until Monday morning, and Miranda left most of the mess for her to clean.

In her office, she had her work bag sitting on the credenza and some files and photos strewn across the surface. She was going back and forth between the photos and her computer, taking notes on various elements to send to her assistant. Caroline and Cassidy were there, finishing up their homework for the weekend. Cassidy sat in Miranda's desk chair, while Caroline was reading a book on the settee. When Miranda got a call, she stepped out of the office and took the call in the hallway.

When she returned, Caroline and Cassidy were both looking at the photos. "Do you like those dresses?" she asked, coming up behind them. "Can you guess which one is my favorite?"

Caroline pointed to a blue dress accessorized with a tiara and diamonds, and Cassidy pointed to a similar blue one paired with combat boots and a chain necklace.

"Good choices. Those two are my favorites and I can't decide which one belongs on the cover."

"Mom, why do you have sugar in your desk? I thought you didn't like sugar in your coffee." Cassidy asked, pointing at Miranda's top desk drawer.

Her eyes widened. "What? Where—oh, it's, um, it's for Nigel if he comes. He takes sugar," she explained. "Did you have any?"

"No." They both shook their heads.

"Why don't we go downstairs for a snack? You can each have half a can of soda if you'd like," she added.

They squealed in delight and raced downstairs to the kitchen.

Miranda exhaled. How had she forgotten to lock her desk drawer? She quickly made sure all four bags were in the drawer, then locked it and slipped the key into her pocket.

The following weekend, Emily came into the office on Saturday morning to catch up on work, and she wasn't expecting to see Miranda. After saying a brief hello, she sat at her desk and sent emails, updated spreadsheets, printed out documents, and carefully labeled everything on her desk for next week's meetings. As she was printing the schedule, she heard a thump. "Miranda?"

When there was no response, she walked around her desk and gasped. She quickly dialed 911 on her desk phone, on speakerphone.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance to Elias Clarke, 28th floor. There's a woman who collapsed. It looks like she's having a seizure," Emily said while frantically texting Andrea. She went to her, awkwardly putting her hand on Miranda's shoulder while answering more questions from the dispatcher.

When she looked over at the desk, she saw a half-empty bottle of vodka and a glass with a faint lipstick mark and told them that she thought Miranda had been drinking. What she didn't see was the line of white powder on the glass surface of the desk.

Her cell phone suddenly rang. "Emily, is there cocaine around? White powder?"

"What?"

"Just look."

"Why would there be—oh, yeah, it's on her desk."

"Get a tissue, flush it down the toilet. Check her purse for any more drugs and get rid of them."

"How did you know?"

"This is why I quit," Andrea said. "I'm leaving now. I'll meet her at Presbyterian. Stay at the office and don't let police in without a warrant. I hope it doesn't come down to that."

"Should I tell the EMTs? I can hear them at the elevators," she said. "In here!" she shouted to them.

"Tell them you're not sure whether's she had any drugs. It's not going to matter. I'll talk to them at the hospital."

Emily stepped away as the paramedics tended to Miranda and hooked her up to oxygen. She wasn't sure what to do next. Miranda had a rule about never calling 911, so there was no directions on what to do if that happened. So, she called Leslee, hoping she could at least get ahead of it if it got out in the papers.

At the hospital, Andrea was relieved to find she was still listed as one of Miranda's emergency contacts. As such, a nurse led her to the room in the ER where they would be bringing Miranda Smith, her VIP alias assigned by the hospital.

There was a flurry of activity as they brought Miranda into the room and several doctors and nurses attended to her, drawing blood, checking vitals, and trying to get her to talk. One of the nurses gestured to Andrea, and she stepped out of the room to speak with her. "Any idea what she might be on? It'll be about 10 minutes before our bloodwork is back, but it's obviously more than alcohol."

Andrea sighed. "Likely cocaine. I wasn't there with her, but I've known her to use in the past."

"Okay. That would explain a lot. Cocaine and alcohol react in the bloodstream and it actually takes the liver longer to process it and flush it out than either on their own."

"Did she have a seizure? Isn't that why she's here?"

"I believe so. A seizure is one of the symptoms of overdose, like the body's way of protecting itself. Good thing you called 911 when you did."

Andrea didn't correct her to say that Emily called. There was a question looming in the back of her mind that she needed answered. "Is there permanent damage?"

"From the seizure, we don't believe so," the doctor said, stepping out into the hall and answering Andrea's question. "But to her heart, her liver, we'll need to do some more tests. You can go in and talk to her, but she might be out of it for a while." He turned to the nurse. "I turned the saline all the way up so we can try and flush this out while keeping her hydrated. Give her a cath."

The nurse nodded and stepped into the room, then the doctor turned to Andrea again. "Do you know whether she's got an addiction? Is this going to be a full detox? Do I need to get her counseling?"

Andrea tried to blink away the tears but when the doctor reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, she couldn't help but let them fall. "Yes, she needs help," Andrea said. "I've been telling her this for months."

"Thanks for being honest. It's good she's here. It's good you're here with her," he said, squeezing her shoulder slightly before walking away.

Andrea wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. She sent a quick text to Emily letting her know that she was okay, then she walked back into the room. Finally, a few minutes alone with the editor.

"You?—Why?" Miranda asked.

"Because I care about you," Andrea said, sitting gently on the bed. She took Miranda's hand. "I care about you and want to see you healthy and thriving and happy." After a few seconds, she set her hand back on the bed. "What happened?"

Miranda shook her head. "I wasn't suicidal if that's what you're thinking."

"It wasn't, but good to know."

"I just—I just had a little too much. That's all," she said, adding her signature flick of the wrist.

"You were lucky Emily was in the office today. What if she didn't come in? What about the next time you have a little too much? What then? What if Cassidy or Caroline finds you? Will it still be 'just a little too much'? Jesus, Miranda. You can't keep doing this."

"There won't be a next time," Miranda said. Andrea's eyes widened, but Miranda continued. "I will be careful. I promise."

"Do you even hear yourself?!" Andrea shouted. "You can't keep this up. You need help."

"What I need is you to stop trying to control my life. You don't work for me anymore, remember?"

"I do remember," Andrea spat, "and I know I could never control your life. I didn't think anyone had that power… that is, until now."

"What do you mean?"

"Cocaine, Miranda. Cocaine is controlling your life. When will you wake up and see it?"

The editor rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Stop exaggerating."

"You know what, I'm going. Deal with this on your own."

Miranda watched the young woman walk out, and it wasn't until minutes later that she realized she wasn't coming back. She began panicking, and her heart rate skyrocketed, triggering multiple alarms. Was Andrea going to go to the police? Was she going to tell her ex-husband? Go to the press?

The nurse administered a drug that would help her relax and not interfere with the drugs they were currently trying to flush out of her system. Within minutes, she fell asleep.

The next day, Miranda signed herself out of the hospital AMA.

After leaving the hospital, Andrea texted Emily to meet her for a drink.

"Why didn't you talk about any of this before?" Emily demanded. "I can't believe you kept this from me!"

"I didn't think it was anyone else's business. And don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't really see us becoming friends."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Obviously, that much is true. Have you at least stopped using Carmex?"

Now it was Andrea's turn to roll her eyes. "Em, I'm really worried about her. I wish I could just stop caring about her, but I can't."

"You're too soft," Emily said. "Fitting that you're now writing stories to tug at Americans' heartstrings."

"You're just jealous that no one can melt your cold heart."

Emily threw a french fry at her. "But seriously, what are we going to do about Miranda? You're the one who can talk to her about it. I can't—not without getting fired. I at least want to find another job first."

"You're right. I'm bad cop, you're good cop. I still have my key—did she change the locks?"

"At the townhouse, goodness, no!"

"Okay, so I'm assuming this isn't Miranda's weekend with the girls, right?"

"She hasn't had them on a weekend in ages."

"Seriously? Those two are her world!"

Emily shrugged. "Not anymore, I don't think."

"God, this is worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"Miranda always said she wouldn't use around them. She… that was her boundary. But now, if they're gone every weekend—"

"—she's using every weekend. Bloody hell!"

"I'm going to go to her house, find anything she has stashed there, and maybe just wait for her to get home."

"She's going to demand to be released as soon as possible, you know that, right?"

"Yes. That's why I'm going tonight. I'll try talking to her again."

"I can call her psychiatrist," Emily said. "Just to say that she had a seizure and I thought he should check on her as a follow-up to the hospital visit."

"Good idea. She won't have any idea you were involved. I guess, we just have to keep an eye on her. So, she never sent you to her dealer on the Lower East Side?"

"Absolutely not."

"Hmm, okay. Let's keep in touch."

Emily agreed and paid for their drinks on Miranda's corporate card, easily justifying the expense. "Do you have Miranda's number?"

"No. It was on my work phone."

"I'm texting it to you—her cell, her home, and James, too. Just for emergencies."

"Of course."

That night, Andrea went straight to the townhouse. She found several bags of cocaine in Miranda's desk drawer, and some crack cocaine and more eight balls in a combination-lock jewelry box in her closet. There was no actual jewelry in the box, so Andrea put all the cocaine in one place and changed the combination to something Miranda wouldn't know and put the box in her bag.

Feeling confident that she found everything, she walked around the townhouse, taking in some of the familiar sights and smells, and noticing some new things. The kitchen was a mess, as was her bedroom and bathroom. Andrea wasn't ready to leave, so she busied herself by cleaning up the kitchen, and running the dishwasher. It was just past midnight, but she decided she wanted to be there when Miranda returned. She grabbed the towels from Miranda's bathroom and stripped the sheets off her bed, throwing them in the washing machine. Then, she took a taxi back to her apartment to get some fresh clothes and her work bag, and came right back to the townhouse to finish the laundry and make Miranda's bed. She only hoped the editor was willing to open her eyes after all this.

Andrea eventually fell asleep on the guest bed, waking only when she heard the front door open and slam shut. She listened for the editor, but instead of coming upstairs to her bedroom, across the hall from the guest room, she went to her office, cursing as she opened and shut drawers. Andrea heard her come upstairs, walk into her closet, and again curse, likely because she was looking for the drugs currently locked away in Andrea's bag.

"Where the fuck did it go!?" Miranda cursed.

Andrea took a deep breath and took the jewelry box from her purse, steeling herself before walking across the hallway and into the editor's room.

"Looking for this?" Andrea held out the box.

"What—give me that!" she hissed, ripping it out of the woman's hand. "What are you even doing here?" With shaky hands, she tried the combination, cursing each time she failed. She sank to the ground, looking miserably defeated.

"I cleaned your house. I found some in your desk and in your closet. I put it all in there and changed the combination."

"Get out or I'll call the police."

"If you call the police, I'll give them the combination to that box," Andrea said, kneeling next to the editor and folding her arms across her chest. "I want to help you. I was hoping the hospital would be some sort of wake-up call, but I'm here because I figured you'd sign yourself out against medical advice."

"Emily should never have called an ambulance. I would have been fine."

Andrea fought the urge to scream at the other woman. "You had a seizure. You were starting to overdose. What would have happened if you did the other line of coke that was on your desk?"

Miranda's eyes widened. "Wh-what? Did they see that?"

"No. But I won't keep hiding this for you." She reached out and put a hand on Miranda's shoulder. "Why did you make a beeline for your drugs the minute you got home?"

"I just needed to know it was there. I just wanted to see it," she said.

Andrea unlocked the box and opened it. "Is that really all you wanted?" Andrea asked quietly.

Miranda shakily reached a hand out, stroking the side of the box.

Andrea took her hand and held it in her own, bringing the editor's hands up to her lips and pressing a soft kiss. "I know this is really hard, but it doesn't have to be like this." For a minute, she thought Miranda was going to agree, but then the woman pulled away.

"You're right, I don't want you here," Miranda said. "I won't call the police for obvious reasons, but you should go."

Andrea was disappointed, but she also didn't expect it would be that simple. "Okay. I'm going to leave. And I won't flush your coke because I know you'll just go buy more. But please think about it."

"Bore someone else with your lecture."

Andrea raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm leaving. I just know you're probably telling yourself that you are in control, but stop and ask yourself if you can go without." She got up and walked out of the room and out of the house.

Miranda stayed on the floor, holding a small bag of powder in her hand. "I am in control," she said quietly. She put the bag back in the box and pulled herself to her feet, walking into her bathroom to take a hot shower.