The relentless strobe of paparazzi flashbulbs illuminated the grand entrance of the Sterling Plaza, bouncing off the polished marble columns and the gleaming hoods of luxury town cars.

Julian Thorne adjusted the lapels of his custom tuxedo, his stomach churning with a toxic cocktail of anxiety and

The champagne soaked into the cuffs of Julian’s trousers, the shattered crystal sparkling mockingly on the floor, but he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Around him, the ballroom was on its feet, a thunderous ovation echoing off the vaulted ceilings as Clara reached the bottom of the stairs. Vi

Julian stumbled out of the VIP alcove and back into the blinding glare of the ballroom, looking like a man who had just survived a shipwreck only to realize he was stranded on a desert island.

The gala was in full swing, a roaring symphony of wealth and power, but Julian couldn't hear the music. A