private club was suffocatingly thick with the
ll. She wore a severe, tailored black Givenchy
alites who walked past. They offered her words of sympathy, but their
. He held a crystal flute of champag
voice low. "They are calling the explosion a 'family curse.' O
dead eyes. "Our sister's body is in an urn behind y
Someone has to keep this family afloat," he spat, turning o
ection. He wore a sharp black suit. He arranged h
out, aiming to pull her into a comforting e
nose. Underneath it, that same faint, lingering scent of cheap va
rose in her throat. She forcefully step
tation crossed his eyes. He quickly lowered his arms,
lutch, her phone vibrated.
aron. "I need the restroom," she mutter
with antique oil paintings. She stopped under a brass wa
wo text messages fr
ed the f
the morning
hitched in her throat. Her finger
new what happened that night.
ess the panic, the se
way are 4K resolution. And the audio r
he cold spread through her veins. He had recorded
he call button on the unknown nu
Then, a harsh click. The line
t up with a t
PM. Le Bernardin
A wave of intense, burning humiliation washed ov
e mirror. She stared at her reflection. Her skin was ghastly
ot let Faron deceive her. She was surrounded by pre
. She shoved the phone
od-red lipstick. She applied it with precise, aggressive strok
n her black dress. She straightened h
e corridor and back
ght toward her father, Reginald. He was standing
to the circle, shatteri
and demanding. "I need to see the insurance cl
turned a dark, furious red. He grabbed In
hissed through his teeth. "
ip. She stared him down, her red
her voice dripping with venom, "I will bring a team of forensic account
s defiance in his usually obedient daughter. Ina turn
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