The air was heavy with silence, the sort of silence that presses down upon your chest so that every breath is a confession. Amelia sat balanced on the edge of the huge, gold-ribbed bed in Alexander's penthouse, her fingers twisting the nightgown hem into rope. The city lights outside the glass walls glimmered like a thousand secrets, and each of them resonated with a lamp that told her of the world that would never be finished, regardless of how much of hers was breaking into pieces.

Alexander ...