The night of the wedding was the loudest the estate had ever been, and yet, inside the apartment, the silence was deafening. The distant thrum of the reception—the clinking of crystal, the swell of an orchestra, the raucous laughter of men who traded in lives—drifted through the vents like a fever dream.

I sat in the dark of the nursery, the only light coming from the moon reflecting off the jade-green walls. I didn't turn on the lamps. I didn't want to see the mahogany crib or the ...