THIRD PERSON POV
The sun was dipping low, casting long streaks of amber across the harbor as the black SUVs rolled to a stop at the private marina. One by one, the doors opened, and ten women stepped onto polished marble, their heels clicking like a metronome measuring anticipation. Even from a distance, their poise and refinement spoke of wealth, education, and social standing—but beneath the controlled elegance, a tremor of curiosity ran through them all.
Each carried a single envelope, sealed in gold, with the city name they would carry inside Velaria. For some, the thrill was obvious in the tight clutch of their hands, the slight quickening of breaths. For others, like Martha, it was a slow, simmering heat—born from years of a marriage that offered comfort but never passion. Crescent
