The boutique was an oasis of ivory and champagne gold, tucked away in a quiet corner of Zurich where the street noise was muffled by thick limestone walls. Elea stood on a circular pedestal, surrounded by three-way mirrors that reflected her image into infinity. The silk of the wedding dress felt heavy and cold against her skin, a shimmering white armor that seemed to mock the darkness of the mission she was currently undertaking. After the unsettling announcement of their new, wiretapped apartment from Ethel Bowie, every moment of preparation felt like a tightening of the noose.
The dress was a masterpiece of lace and structure, cinching her waist and flowing to the floor in a river of expensive fabric. To any observer, she was the picture of a radiant bride, but as she looked at her re
