The private dining room at Per Se glowed with amber light, Manhattan's skyline twinkling beyond floor-to-ceiling windows. Camille swirled her wine, watching the deep red liquid catch the light. The remnants of their nine-course meal and two bottles of Bordeaux scattered across the table.

"To resurrection," Victoria said, raising her glass, platinum hair shimmering in the candlelight.

"To truth," Alexander added from beside Camille.

"To ...