I slipped the pages back into the envelope after folding them carefully, then set it face-down on the nightstand.
For a long moment I stood at the window, gazing down at the immaculate gardens below. Everything out there was perfectly arranged, untouched by pain or regret.
I remained there until the light faded, letting the silence settle over me like a shroud.
Three days later, Margaret appeared at my breakfast table holding an embossed invitation card. Her expression was the one I had come to recognize—polite, professional, and laced with news I would not welcome.
"Mr. Winston would like you to accompany him this evening," she said.
I looked up from my tea. "Where?"
"The Grand Imperial Charity Banquet. The city’s most influential business leaders will be in attendance."
I picked
