The garden cottage door bore my weight as weariness settled into my bones like lead.
I wasn't sure if it was Franklin Hall's chaos, Zara's newfound unfamiliarity, or Luzie's revelation that she'd wanted to divorce me for a long time.
She sat frozen in the white convertible, that calculated green dress from this morning's performance still perfectly arranged, her eyes wide with an emotion that hovered between shock and something darker—as though I'd materialized in a space where I had no right to exist.
Franklin smiled casually, "Dear nephew, we meet again."
His white suit was grimy.
As shadows lengthened across my office, Leon presented me with Franklin's latest move—a carefully orchestrated piece about Luzie's charitable visit to an orphanage, waiting to be published by some insignif
