Maya POV
I was dressed in a midnight-red Bordeaux evening gown, paired with silver stilettos. Jewelry adorned my neck, wrists, and ears, making me feel like someone else entirely.
I stared at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the girl looking back at me.
I looked rich.
A few days ago, I could never have imagined myself wearing a dress like this—let alone owning one. Yet here I was.
Married to a murderer.
Could life be any crueler?
I blinked back the tears threatening to spill.
“You look fabulous, ma’am,” one of the dressers said softly.
I gave her a small smile.
They escorted me out of the room toward the car waiting outside. Just as I was about to get in, with a valet holding the back door open for me, the atmosphere suddenly shifted. A cold chill swept through the air.
