Webster, a vision in shimmering couture, moved through the crowd, her smile bright, her laughter like the tinkl

wasn'

nce for the tenth time in as m

ack, his face flushed with champagne and triumph. His daughter was

e slipped away into an alcove a

demanded, her voi

here's been a situation. Young Master Theodore went m

t. That strange, silent little boy was ruining her perfect nig

le faltered for a moment before he smoothed it back into place.

Brianna had woke

ere cold. Weston's smal

art st

her voice still thick

e. The bathroom-empty. The living room-empty. The

wed up her throat,

ch showed a blue dot moving away from the hotel. Mo

d turned

aph

er. Seraphina had taken her son. Five years ago, she had murdered

dress. Her fingers shook as she tied her hair back. She didn't both

phina took Weston. I'm going to the Webster esta

sharp with alarm.

hung

Every slow driver was an accomplice. Brianna's mind raced through every nightmare scenario: Weston, alone

phina touches him-if she so much as looks at him wrong-She will kil

doors of the ba

ht, a lone figure that commanded the attention of

pped forward,

air was pulled back in a severe knot, emphasizing the sharp, elegant li

froze, cracking li

flute slipped from his fingers

s Bri

for a small figure with dark hair. But all she saw were stran

aze found

t turned to something else. Some

a

ing, incand

d murdered her son. And now-now she had taken Weston. The onl

to fists at her sides. He

h step was deliberate.

not loud, but it cut through the silence

. The Webster bastard. The one

oodless. "You... What are you talki

r, a humorless smile touching h