LOGINMarcus woke up at seven.Not because he wanted to. Not because he had somewhere to be. Just because his body had learned to wake at seven, and it didn't know how to stop.He lay in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling. The apartment was quiet. The curtains were drawn. The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of traffic outside. The same sounds he heard every morning. The same sounds he had heard for weeks.He got up slowly. He walked to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark. His jaw was covered in stubble. He looked tired. He looked like a man who had not slept well in weeks.He brushed his teeth. He took a shower. He stood under the hot water until it turned cold. Then he got out and dried off and put on a clean shirt. He made coffee. He drank it standing by the window, looking out at the city. The streets were busy. People were walking. Cars were passing. The world was moving on.He
The penthouse was silent.Aurora sat on the edge of the bed. She had not moved in hours. Her wedding dress was still on. The white silk was wrinkled now, crushed beneath her where she sat. The lace at the hem was torn. The train was bunched around her feet like a fallen cloud. The diamonds around her neck felt like stones. Heavy. Cold. Useless.Her makeup had washed away. Not from tears. From time. From sitting there, staring at nothing, letting the hours pass. The mascara had bled down her cheeks in dark streaks. The foundation had faded, leaving her skin pale and uneven. The lipstick was gone. Her hair, which had been perfectly styled that morning, now hung in loose strands around her face. The pins were falling out. The curls had dropped.She looked like a ghost.The bedroom was dark. The curtains were drawn. The only light came from the small lamp on the nightstand. It cast long shadows across the walls. Shadows that moved when she moved. Shadows that watched her when she sat stil
The Grand Hall was silent.It was not the peaceful silence that came before a ceremony, nor the respectful quiet that settled over a congregation when a priest asked everyone to bow their heads. This silence felt different. It was heavy and uncomfortable, pressing against the walls and filling every space where music, laughter, and celebration were supposed to be.Ethan was gone.Ten minutes had passed since he had rushed through the doors after the mysterious woman. He had not returned. His security team had followed him, Harrison had gone after him, and the black car carrying the woman had disappeared into the night. Ethan had stood in the driveway watching the vehicle until its taillights had vanished completely, but there had been nothing he could do except stare at the empty road.Now he was simply gone.The guests did not know what to do with themselves. Some remained standing, as if sitting down would somehow make what had happened real. Others had slowly lowered themselves bac
Ethan moved.One step. Then another.His shoes struck the marble floor with a steady rhythm as he walked down the aisle. He did not look at the altar. He did not look at Aurora. He did not look at the hundreds of people who had fallen silent around him. His eyes remained fixed on the woman sitting in the second row.Five hundred people watched him.Investors leaned forward in their seats. Board members exchanged uncertain glances. Reporters raised their cameras, their fingers hovering over the shutters. Even the guests who had been whispering moments earlier seemed afraid to make a sound.All that filled the Grand Hall was the click of Ethan's shoes against marble and the faint mechanical hum of cameras recording every second.His face remained still.But his eyes had changed.They were locked on her with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. There was no anger in them. No confusion. No coldness. Something moved behind them instead, something raw and unfamiliar, as though
The doors were open.Every head in the Grand Hall had turned toward the woman standing in the doorway. Five hundred guests stared at her in silence: investors, partners, board members, reporters, and strangers who had come to witness the wedding of Ethan Blackwood and Aurora Vance.She was tall and elegant, dressed in a dark midnight-blue silk dress that caught the light with every small movement. The fabric fell to the floor in soft folds, simple but unmistakably expensive, while a thin silver belt rested around her waist. Her black heels were tall, but she stood in them with the ease of someone who had worn them her entire life.Her hair was blonde and short, cut close to her head in a style that framed her face. It was nothing like the dark hair shown in the photographs or the messy knot from the old news reports. This was something new, something deliberate, and every detail of her appearance seemed carefully chosen.A thin black lace veil covered the upper half of her face. It fe
The Grand Hall at the St. Regis was filled with light.The ceiling was made entirely of glass, just as Aurora had promised. The stars were visible above them, while the chandeliers hung low, casting a warm golden glow over the five hundred guests filling the room. White roses and pink peonies lined the aisle, and a string quartet played something soft and classical. The air carried the mixed scents of expensive perfume, candle wax, and fresh flowers.Aurora stood at the altar in white.Her gown had taken six months to make, every detail carefully chosen. A long veil fell to her waist, while diamonds rested against her neck, ears, and wrists, catching the light whenever she moved. She looked toward the crowd for a moment before turning her attention to the man standing across from her.Ethan wore black.His suit was perfectly tailored, his silk tie sitting neatly against his collar, and the watch on his wrist was the one Aurora had given him as a wedding gift. He stood straight and sti







