A cold, calculating smile touched Violet Bento’s lips as she watched the gears turn behind Elara Vance’s eyes. The hunger for information was palpable. “It’s not some great state secret,” Violet purred, leaning in as if sharing a delicious confidence. “Michael has… alluded to the marriage before. He’s just fiercely private. The identity of his wife is a matter of… discretion.”

“But you know,” Elara stated, not a question.

Violet’s gaze became sly, a cat with a canary ...