Clara’s POV

Snowy days were always like this—gray and smothering, mirroring my heart, suffocating till I couldn’t breathe.

Outside the hotel window, a white blur swallowed everything, snowflakes slicing the night like countless silver blades. I huddled in my silk robe, standing before the floor-to-ceiling glass, half-glass of red wine in hand, liquid swirling in candlelight like congealed blood.

On a night like this, Aaron must be in that spring-warm villa, doting on that bitch ...