The restaurant was quiet, hidden behind black-tinted glass and gold lights that glowed like fire through the windows. Vincent liked places like this. Private, elegant, expensive enough to keep gossip out.

I sat at the table near the corner, watching the rain trail down the windows. My reflection stared back. I had soft curls falling over one shoulder, lips painted in a shade that looked harmless until the light hit it.

Tonight wasn’t about beauty. It was about control.

When Vincent walked in, everyone turned to stare at him though they didn't approval him. For a moment, I almost forgot the man walking towards me was no longer mine.

“Lyra,”...