London glimmered beneath a white sky, the kind that promised nothing but cold light. From the penthouse window of the Corinthian Residences, Charles Rivera stood motionless, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a tumbler of untouched whiskey.He didn’t drink anymore. Not since Italy.On the television behind him, the city’s society channel replayed the wedding of the year: The Castell–Moretti union. The anchor’s voice floated through the air like perfume,sweet, polished, false.> “The ceremony took place at St. Verena’s Cathedral this morning. The bride, radiant in her wedding dress, was accompanied by Castell patriarch Edwin Castell himself, who appeared frail but proud. The groom, Dimitri Moretti, heir to the Moretti banking family, looked dashing beside her…”Charles didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He’d already memorized the frame before the sound even began, her face, lifted beneath the veil, pale and perfect, eyes steady as though she wasn’t walking into a tr
Last Updated : 2025-11-02 Read more