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February 16, 1990. The New York Post puts six words on its front page, and America decides it knows exactly who Marla Maples is. Best sex I've ever had. She says she never said it. Twenty-eight years later she told a reporter someone else did. By then she'd signed a document handed to her five days before her wedding — one million dollars, a confidentiality clause, and a five-year clock. He separated from her in month forty-one. She has never told her side. She still can't. And she's the only one who knows it. It begins on a ski slope. But hold on the headline for a second, because that front page is doing more work than anyone gave it credit for at the time.
