Chapter 37 - Satan had a heart.

Viviane

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I made my way back to his closet, shutting the door behind me. The space was enormous, the kind of luxury you’d expect from someone like Alessandro Costello—opulent and excessive, with dark wood panels and a chandelier hanging overhead.

Everything was meticulously arranged, an almost military-like precision to the rows of clothes. Suits in shades of black, navy, and charcoal lined one side, each one perfectly tailored.

I ran my fingers over the fabric of a charcoal-gray suit jacket. It felt like liquid under my skin, softer than anything I’d ever touched. The label read: Kiton. I pulled another out. Cesare Attolini. Stefano Ricci. Each piece spoke of exclusivity and luxury.

Then the tag caught my eye: A. Costello. I pulled it out to inspect further. The label was sewn in with gold thread, every piece of clothing in this closet marked with his name, as if it were a brand all on its own. There were dozens of suits, each one with the same arrogant tag, like a si