The tie sat like a noose until I adjusted it. I stood in front of the mirror, black tux, satin lapel, shirt starched stiff. Perfect lines. Not a wrinkle out of place. Control made visible. My reflection didn’t blink back, it ordered. That was the point.
Another gala, another battlefield dressed in glass and money. The kind of night that existed for men like my father, or the ghost of him still breathing through my habits. Deals disguised as toasts, lies polished into charm.
The kind she hated, and I kept dragging her into.
Silas appeared in the doorway. “Car’s ready.”
I nodded, not turning. “Security routes?”
“Triple checked.”
“Amber?”
“Downstairs with Sophie. Ready.”
The word hit harder than it should have. Ready, like she ever wasn’t.
After the headlines, she never flinched agai
