Aaron stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his charcoal suit. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp starch of freshly pressed fabric.

He was getting ready to attend the Cingarette party, walking straight into the lions den.

His expression was set, very calm on the surface, and that unfazing focus he always had.

The knock at the door was sharp, almost impatient, and very unexpected.

Margaret wasn't supposed to be here for another thirty ...