he would be here now, adding even more tension to the already strained relationship between our families. As I stared out the window in my di

y type. Cadenza glided into the room, the hem of her scarlet dress whispering against the polished wooden floor as if it were a secret onl

nt for knowing things that slithered beneath the surface. She was referring to my recent acquisition of Antonio Russo's "Eternal Echoes" painting. She works at a pres

gh I doubted she'd bowed before any deity in years. "For your impeccable taste, of course," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "

games. Our past was a twisted vine, full of thorns that had once ensnared me. No more. "Your congratulations are noted and as empty as I remember your promises to be," I

thought you'd be thrilled to see me, especially since I've come all this way to see you." Cadenza's eyes narrowed just

elicacy of someone handling a priceless artifact. "You are cordially invited," she began, reading over the top of the card as if to remind me of the formalities involved in such an

ntrigue. The Moroni unveiling was an event I had heard whispers about, a gathering that would pull the city's elite into it

n exhibition. It's the stage for a revelation that will send ripples across the art world-and beyond. And you, with your particular...interests, would not want to

over in my hands. "I'm leaving now, but let me know if you need a date." Cadenza had said before departing. The paper exuded an air of luxury, and the faint scent that clung to

was a carefully laid trap. Cadenza was not just a wealthy socialite; she was a determined woman who alway