In the weeks after their demise, the opulent villa of the Browns had become eerily quiet. Guarded by a skeleton crew of hired men who resembled thugs more than servants, the sprawling mansion that had once played host to lavish parties was now a shadow of its former glory. Roseline Brown sat in the parlor upstairs, gazing at the wine glass she was holding, her image warped in its red depths.
She had once called Robert Cruise a nobody. His name roared across the North Coast now. There were rumors of his empire, his alliance with Eliana Rowe, and his desire to exact revenge on those who had wronged him in every newspaper and gossip column. When Roseline divorced him, she believed she had escaped embarrassment. Rather, she had chained herself to Preston Vaughn, only to see him crushed beneat
