nd confusion, punctuated by the fran

one that had been dark for minutes, blazed to life. It

eir eyes. When they looked aga

t was filled with screenshots of emails and

the screen's glow. His cold eyes were fixed

by a modulator-filled the room through the s

d a private equity firm, detailing a plan to short Ca

is wife, his face a mask

fshore account belonging to Chelsey Burke to a private investigator, dated

king moment. Every eye, once filled with scorn for Colette,

ol panel, trying to pull the power cord. The acce

curity guards, but they were frozen, unsur

s digging into her flesh. "Is it tr

ed, her lies becoming more frantic. "She

ng a video. Security footage from the bridal suite

ey's voice sneered from the speakers. The video showed

l in her coffin. Mr. Carlisle cl

lsey's arm, trying to drag her toward a side exit,

O

ked open from the outside, slamming against

liced through the dim room. Ever

in the doorway. He was not a man;

y guards flowed into the room. They moved with silent, deadly efficie

st on Jobe's lapel. They dropped their nightsticks as i

arted for him like the Red Sea, people scrambling to

Os and the terrified looks of society wives. Hi

le

hammered against her ribs. The scent of cedar and gunpowder, a ghost

her. The feeling of being hunted, of being the focus of

avior. She scrambled toward him, crying, "Mr. Heath!

r. He gave a subtle, almost imp

seized Chelsey, dragging her a

up at the woman in the ruined dress, the woman

very person held their breath, wai