Delilah stepped out of the car in front of the hotel, her heels striking the marble pavement with sharp, deliberate confidence.
Her sunglasses hid her eyes but not the storm behind them.
Across the street earlier that afternoon, she recalled seeing it. Wesley.
Smiling. Relaxed. Sitting across from Riana as if the past eight years had never happened. As if Delilah had never existed.
Her jaw tightened.
‘Laugh while you can,’ she thought bitterly.
The doorman opened the glass doors immediately, recognizing her. The hotel staff bowed their heads politely as she flashed the black-and-gold penthouse keycard. Respect followed her wherever money and bloodline carried weight, even if her position in the world was more fragile than she let anyone see.
Inside the private elevat
