The first mistake Celeste makes is assuming I will stay quiet.
The second is assuming Adrian will stay controlled.
Neither of us does.
It starts with an invitation.
Not addressed to me directly—but close enough to be intentional.
A charity luncheon.
Midday.
High-profile.
Press expected.
The kind of event where absence speaks louder than presence.
The message arrives mid-morning, forwarded through Adrian’s assistant with a single note attached.
She’s trying to bait you.
I read it twice.
Then I reply with three words.
I know.
I don’t ask if Adrian will be there.
I already know the answer.
The city feels different when you know you’re being watched.
Not followed—watched.
Every reflection in glass, every phone lifted too quickly, every pause in conversation feels weighted wi
