The fire devoured the silk with a hunger that felt almost personal, as if it had been waiting for this moment. Crimson fabric curled inward, edges blackening and fraying like the brittle pages of an ancient book. The flames licked greedily at the hem, climbing higher, consuming the delicate embroidery until the gown, once a shimmering symbol of opulence,collapsed into a pile of ash and embers.
My hands trembled around the matchbox, the cardboard edges biting into my palms, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The acrid scent of burning silk filled the air, stinging my nose and coating my throat with the taste of betrayal.
That red dress had been more than fabric. It was Valen’s world. His wealth, his mark on me, woven into every stitch. It had clung to my skin at his galas, his parties, his
