The burly men in black tuxedos (or “groomsmen,” as Cynthia calls them) march us in a straight line across the lawns and up the white marble steps leading to the mansion’s wide verandah. Bougainvillea vines twine up around the tuscan columns and graceful arches, their bright magenta flowers hanging overhead amongst golden candelabras and lanterns as we walk beneath in petrified silence.
The mansion’s enormous teak front doors are shut. Despite the horrific situation, I’m momentarily awestruck by their beauty - a tropical scene has been expertly carved into the dark wood, depicting seven monkeys fighting over a jewelled crown, surrounded by swathes of vines and fruit and flowers. The largest groomsman - a stern man with light blonde hair, chiseled features and cold, glacial blue eyes - pres
