Rain streaked the Maybach windows while traffic stood still near the Pont Neuf. I was reviewing preliminary sketches for my new ‘Phoenix’ collection when someone pounded on the glass.
It was her.
Elena wore a thin, soaked coat. Wet hair clung to her cheeks, and she had to brace one hand on the car while she knocked with the other.
My driver reached for his phone. “Sir, should I call security?”
“No. Let her speak.” I lowered the tinted window.
Cold air and rain came in. Elena leaned toward the opening.
“Arthur.” She took the cracked pink diamond from her pocket.
“Please. The wedding never happened. I cancelled it. I saw Julian for what he was. He’s a monster. It was always you. It was always, always you.”
Her face was wet with rain and tears. She pushed the ring closer to the open w
