Earlier that evening, the DeLuca mansion had been far quieter. The storm had not yet rolled in, and the air carried a soft coolness. Upstairs in her ensuite bathroom, Rebecca stood at the sink under warm lights, smoothing night serum into her skin. The faint scent of roses and sandalwood rose from the cream she applied in upward strokes, taking her time with each part of her nightly ritual. 

Rebecca slid open the vanity drawer, withdrawing her gold-plated facial roller, the cool ...