They said the wedding was perfect.

Flawless. Timeless. Beautiful.

I watched it all from the shadows, my collar buttoned high, my hands still smelling faintly of motor oil and rage.

She’d looked right at me once — just once — before the doors closed.

And that was enough.

Now, she was gone.

He’d taken her.

The house was quieter than I’d ever heard it. The kind of quiet that made walls remember things they shouldn’t. The servants spoke in whispers, afraid to say her name. Even ...