AVA
The knock echoed through my apartment at 3:17 a.m., cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. I was still wearing the emerald gown from the auction, now crumpled and carrying the faint scent of orchids and champagne. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows, and the city below glowed with scattered lights from late-night taxis and glowing signs. I checked the camera feed twice before opening the door.
Julian stood there, coat darkened by rain, eyes exhausted but determined. He held a thick, sealed folder under one arm
.
“I knew you wouldn’t want to hear anything I had to say after tonight,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “But I had to come. In person.”
I closed the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking felt final. We moved to the ki
