ion was hosting its annual fundraising gala, an event Edith, as Mrs. Baldwin, could not avoi

e front desk. "I'm he

t bun and an even tighter smile, tapp

ter. Edi

'am. Visitation requires the approval of t

rpet. She wore a simple, elegant black gown of her o

he felt hundreds of eyes on her, whispering, judgin

lled out softly

chair and knelt down. His eyes were glassy, unfocused

tely devoid of strength. She looked at his arm and saw t

air was keeping him sedated,

ding court by the grand staircase. Giovann

false sweetness as Edith approached. "You came.

gainst his knee, tears burning her eyes. "Of course

nurse. "Why is he so heavily sedated? H

gitated easily. The medication is for his own safety, as

ght on her chest. She couldn't fight them here. They were on

r gut. She needed to find her contact, a key invest

h the crowd, her eyes s

r of the VIP wing toward the e

, I feel

herself against the wall,

ng down in front of a plush armchair. His face was a mask of tender

delicate flower wilting under the strain. She le

etting worse because of all the stress,"

. "It's my fault," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I shouldn't have let th

man who was manipulating her husband's grief, was playing the victim in a luxury sui

had destroyed her life for this woman wa

culating rage settle over her like armor. Giovanni didn't care about

lent on the plush carpet. She wouldn't beg a

ing out her phone. She opened a browser and type

es Giovanni probably owned. Her eyes caught a name near the to

s current location: The St.

number. It was