Stormy Nights
The storm came in like a verdict.
By late afternoon the sky over Manhattan had turned the color of a bruise, and the first thunderclap rattled the penthouse windows hard enough to make the crystal decanters sing. Within an hour the city was drowning, lightning forked across the skyline, wind screamed between the towers and the power grid gave up with a final, exhausted flicker.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Ava stood at the glass wall, watching the storm tear the city apart, arms wrapped around herself. She hadn’t spoken to Lucian in three days, not since she’d walked out of his office with the truth burning between them like acid. They moved around each other like ghosts: separate bedrooms, separate meals, separate lives under the same roof. The silence had teeth.
Now
