The dress was a weapon. It was black silk, severe and stunning, cut high across the collarbone, but falling away at the back in a line so low it felt scandalous. Alexander’s stylist had insisted on the cut, claiming it embodied "effortless Sterling wealth." It felt like a costume tailored for a lie.

I stood by the full-length mirror, adjusting the weight of the enormous diamond necklace, a loaner, of course and tried to reconcile the woman in the reflection with the fugitive who had shoved a ...