The grand music room of the Vesper Estate was bathed in moonlight and the soft glow of a dozen candles. Rain drummed steadily against the tall arched windows, creating a natural percussion that complemented the haunting melody flowing from the grand piano.
Rusty Vesper played with his eyes closed, fingers dancing across the keys with centuries of practiced grace. The piece was old — older than the city itself — a melancholic nocturne that spoke of lost empires and forgotten loves. Cattleya Vermont stood behind him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders, feeling every subtle shift of muscle as he performed.
She had slipped away from the hospital again tonight, leaving behind another carefully crafted lie for her father. The weight of deception grew heavier with every stolen hour,
