It was pushing midnight by the time Vivienne rolled back to the villa from dinner.

The staff had already hit the hay, leaving the living room as empty as a politician's promise. Vivienne was just about to kick off her heels and head upstairs when the telltale creak of a wheelchair spun her around. There was Cyrus, lurking in the shadows of the couch.

"Home already?" he grunted.

The lighting carved a swath of darkness across his face, giving him a downright somber ...