private club was suffocatingly thick with the

ll. She wore a severe, tailored black Givenchy

alites who walked past. They offered her words of sympathy, but their

. He held a crystal flute of champag

voice low. "They are calling the explosion a 'family curse.' O

dead eyes. "Our sister's body is in an urn behind y

Someone has to keep this family afloat," he spat, turning o

ection. He wore a sharp black suit. He arranged h

out, aiming to pull her into a comforting e

nose. Underneath it, that same faint, lingering scent of cheap va

rose in her throat. She forcefully step

tation crossed his eyes. He quickly lowered his arms,

lutch, her phone vibrated.

aron. "I need the restroom," she mutter

with antique oil paintings. She stopped under a brass wa

wo text messages fr

ed the f

the morning

hitched in her throat. Her finger

new what happened that night.

ess the panic, the se

way are 4K resolution. And the audio r

he cold spread through her veins. He had recorded

he call button on the unknown nu

Then, a harsh click. The line

t up with a t

PM. Le Bernardin

A wave of intense, burning humiliation washed ov

e mirror. She stared at her reflection. Her skin was ghastly

ot let Faron deceive her. She was surrounded by pre

. She shoved the phone

od-red lipstick. She applied it with precise, aggressive strok

n her black dress. She straightened h

e corridor and back

ght toward her father, Reginald. He was standing

to the circle, shatteri

and demanding. "I need to see the insurance cl

turned a dark, furious red. He grabbed In

hissed through his teeth. "

ip. She stared him down, her red

her voice dripping with venom, "I will bring a team of forensic account

s defiance in his usually obedient daughter. Ina turn