The amber light from the open computer terminal cast long, skeletal shadows across the vaulted wooden bookshelves of the Valerian estate’s private library.Sitting behind the massive, scarred mahogany desk was a man who had no business breathing New York or Zurich air.He wore a tailored charcoal overcoat that showed no dusting of the freezing alpine snow outside, his silver-streaked dark hair combed back with meticulous precision. As the heavy double doors groaned open, Marcus Vance didn't flinch. He simply rested his elbows on the polished wood, steepled his fingers, and offered a slow, venomous smile."I wondered how long it would take an Ashford to trace a breadcrumb across an ocean," Marcus said, his voice smooth, cultured, and entirely devoid of fear. "Though I must admit, I expected Adrian to come alone. Dragging the independent artist into a Swiss freezer seems rather counterproductive to your public relations campaign, Mr. Ashford."Adrian didn't answer with words. The moment
Last Updated : 2026-10-26
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