Webster, a vision in shimmering couture, moved through the crowd, her smile bright, her laughter like the tinkl
wasn'
nce for the tenth time in as m
ack, his face flushed with champagne and triumph. His daughter was
e slipped away into an alcove a
demanded, her voi
here's been a situation. Young Master Theodore went m
t. That strange, silent little boy was ruining her perfect nig
le faltered for a moment before he smoothed it back into place.
Brianna had woke
ere cold. Weston's smal
art st
her voice still thick
e. The bathroom-empty. The living room-empty. The
wed up her throat,
ch showed a blue dot moving away from the hotel. Mo
d turned
aph
er. Seraphina had taken her son. Five years ago, she had murdered
dress. Her fingers shook as she tied her hair back. She didn't both
phina took Weston. I'm going to the Webster esta
sharp with alarm.
hung
Every slow driver was an accomplice. Brianna's mind raced through every nightmare scenario: Weston, alone
phina touches him-if she so much as looks at him wrong-She will kil
doors of the ba
ht, a lone figure that commanded the attention of
pped forward,
air was pulled back in a severe knot, emphasizing the sharp, elegant li
froze, cracking li
flute slipped from his fingers
s Bri
for a small figure with dark hair. But all she saw were stran
aze found
t turned to something else. Some
a
ing, incand
d murdered her son. And now-now she had taken Weston. The onl
to fists at her sides. He
h step was deliberate.
not loud, but it cut through the silence
. The Webster bastard. The one
oodless. "You... What are you talki
r, a humorless smile touching h
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