The room was quiet now, save for the hum of the central air conditioning and the steady rhythm of Simon’s breathing.

Vivienne lay still, staring at the ceiling. The silk sheets, which had felt cool against her skin an hour ago, now felt suffocating. They clung to her like a second skin she couldn't shed.

She felt… hollow.

That was the only word for it. Not sad. Not angry. Just scraped clean of everything that made her Vivienne Carter. The pride she wore like armor, the sharp wit, the dignity it had all been left at the door along with her discarded dress.

Beside her, Simon shifted. His arm, heavy...