The morning came with no sun.Just a dull, pale light that barely crept through the curtains, painting the room in shades of silence and dust. Avery sat on the edge of her bed, a silk robe tied loosely at her waist, her fingers wrapped around a cooling cup of tea she hadn’t touched.She had barely slept.When she did, her dreams were fragmented, flashes of her father’s voice, his study, his laugh during one of those rare, warm dinners when they weren’t at war.And now—he was gone.Just like that.She had told herself she was prepared. That knowing he was sick made it easier. That her grief would come in manageable waves.But it wasn’t like that.It came like a weight. Quiet. Steady. Unmovable.The kind that sat in your chest and refused to let you breathe deeply.She didn’t cry.She didn’t break.She just sat there, still and hollow.A knock pulled her back.Three soft taps at the main door.She stood slowly, placed the tea on the windowsill, and padded across the hardwood floor, bare
It was 12:30 pm. The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon by the time Tamer arrived at the Rodrigo estate.No driver. No assistant. No calls in advance.Just him.The guards at the gate recognized his car and opened without a word. By now, he was a presence that needed no explanation. His name had been whispered enough times beside hers to make it routine.Avery was on the back terrace, seated at the small wrought iron table beneath the cypress tree that had once shaded her father’s afternoon readings. Two porcelain cups sat on the tabletop, still steaming in the cool air. She hadn’t touched hers.She wasn’t dressed for business. A cream cashmere sweater wrapped around her shoulders, dark jeans hugging her frame, her hair pulled into a low, loose knot. There was no trace of makeup. No diamond earrings or power heels.Just Avery. Alone. Tamer approached quietly, his footsteps soft over the stone.She didn’t look up.“Did you come for coffee,” she asked, her voice soft but stea
The rain had stopped by the time Avery returned home, but the scent of it still clung to the air—wet pavement, chilled stone, and something metallic that reminded her of memory and endings.She didn’t speak as the car pulled past the iron gates of the Rodrigo estate. The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror once, caught the steel in her eyes, and said nothing.It was late, but not late enough for silence to feel safe.She walked through the main entrance alone, heels echoing against the marble, her gown whispering behind her like a ghost of the night. Lights had been dimmed by the staff, and the house hummed in its usual quiet rhythm. But Avery felt restless.Like the walls themselves were trying to tell her something she didn’t yet understand.She didn’t head to her room. Instead, she turned toward her father’s old study.It was dark.She flicked on the lamp by the door, casting amber light across the bookshelves and leather furniture. The air smelled like parchment and somet
The music swelled gently from the live orchestra, an elegant blend of strings and piano that danced through the golden air of the ballroom. The scent of orchids and expensive perfume hung in the air like a secret, and laughter sparkled between champagne glasses.But beneath it all, Avery could feel the tension thrumming like a wire beneath her skin.She was no stranger to rooms like this—rooms filled with silk-clad smiles and conversations with hidden knives. But tonight, every glance felt a little longer. Every word carried weight. And somewhere in that room, someone was watching.Her eyes flicked briefly to the corner, where a waiter adjusted a stack of polished trays beside the champagne bar. Something about the man’s stillness stood out. Too stiff. Too focused.But before she could linger, a familiar voice called out—loud enough to draw attention.“Avery, darling.”The warmth in the voice was a lie.She turned.Elise Carmichael descended the short set of marble stairs leading into
The ballroom at The Langford Tower was bursting with color and wealth. Gold lighting bathed the chandeliers, champagne flowed from fountains, and high society gathered like royalty—polished, proud, pretending.And then the room stilled.It was like someone had pressed pause on the entire evening.Because Avery Rodrigo had arrived.She didn’t walk in. She claimed the space.She wore crimson—deep and daring—with a slit that cut up her thigh and a neckline that made the diamonds at her collarbone look like afterthoughts. Her heels clicked in soft rhythm against marble, and her hair was swept back in a low, sleek twist, revealing the quiet power in her jawline and the calm fire in her gaze.People turned.Glasses paused mid-air. Conversations stalled.Even the men who had brought dates that night found their eyes straying.Avery didn’t smile. She didn’t have to.She already owned the night.Tamer spotted her from across the room, near the auction display. He was mid-conversation with two
It rained the next morning.Not a thunderstorm. Not a downpour.Just a steady, silver curtain falling over the city, soft enough to be ignored, heavy enough to make everything feel slower.Avery stood at the window of her office, watching the raindrops crawl down the glass. The city skyline was a blurred watercolor in the distance, and below, umbrellas bloomed on the sidewalks like dark flowers.Behind her, the office was quiet. The world outside might have been humming with tension, but in here, everything held its breath.Avery was thinking.Calculating.Because someone was framing Tamer.And whoever it was… knew her. Knew her well enough to manipulate her doubts, to plant suspicion precisely where it hurt. Tamer was no saint—but he wasn’t a thief. And her instincts, honed as sharp as blades from years of being her father’s daughter, told her one thing:This was personal.“Pull her schedule,” Avery said aloud, not turning from the window.Justin, seated across the room, didn’t need