The car halted at precisely 7:02 p.m.

Julian’s driver swung the door open without lifting his gaze. His silence pleased me. Let him carry the weight of what he’d witnessed.

I stepped out in the Mirelle & Co. dress—plum silk, one shoulder bare, the other bound by black mesh that clung like a scar reborn into art. My hair was sleek, my lips painted dark, my heels striking the marble drive with each step, a measured countdown to their undoing.

Julian waited at the entrance, polished and ...