4:00 PM. The Penthouse.

Aria returned to the penthouse as the afternoon sun began its slow descent, pouring molten gold through the glass walls and stretching shadows across marble floors.

She changed in the car.

The woman who had sat across from Lucas Walter spine straight, eyes sharp, voice cool enough to cut glass never crossed the threshold with her. That version stayed behind like a discarded blade.

Mrs. Cross stepped out instead.

Her hair was slightly undone, as if she had run her fingers through it too many times. A soft cashmere cardigan clung to her shoulders, muting her silhouette, rounding her edges. Her posture sagged just enough to...